The Same Coin
by Morganeth Taren'drel
Summary: Sam and Dean are on the hunt for a demon, what happens when the rash of unexplained deaths attracts the attention of the SGC? -Set during Season 2 of Supernatural-
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: After recently becoming addicted to Stargate Atlantis, and from that SG-1 –_I like to do things backwards_- I had a fic idea pop into my head, for a cross over with Supernatural, and couldn't resist giving it a try. I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters for either Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**The Same Coin**

Colonel Jack O'Neill made his way into the briefing room expecting to find it completely empty. In stead he was met with the sight of Dr Daniel Jackson poring over at least seven open files. As always the archeologist was completely lost in his work, more than likely unaware that anyone was near. Jack had often thought it was a focus that would get his friend killed, so far though he'd dodged several bullets, lazars, among other things. Curiosity pulled Jack closer and he noticed almost immediately that none of these files had that all too familiar 'Top Secret' red stamp on them.

Reading the header to the closest one he saw that it was a police report for Colorado Springs, "You run out of alien languages to translate?" he said by way of greeting.

"Jack!" Daniel didn't jump but his voice sounded surprised.

"What's all this?" the Colonel asked sweeping his hand across the table before picking up the closest file. Giving it a quick scan Jack met his friend's eyes, "Since when do we care abut civilian murders?"

"Since they started forming a pattern," Daniel responded immediately pulling the files towards him as though ordering them. "There have been nine deaths in the past two weeks."

"So the city has a serial killer," it bothered Jack a little how calmly he could say that, but if his job at the SGC had shown him anything thing; it was that there was far more out there for them to worry about than a few psychos.

Daniel was immediately shaking his head, "I don't think so." Adjusting his glasses he flipped a page in the file, "So far police and local authorities have been vague to answer, but what they are willing to say is they 'think' it's a serial killer."

"So what's the problem then?" Jack cut in tossing the file aside, "Thing's may be a little slow here but not that slow, we don't need to be helping the police track their killer."

"But that's just it Jack," Daniel's eyes lit up, "They can't confirm that it's a human doing the killings, they're reluctant to admit it could be anything else. But look at the autopsy reports, they're all the same."

Jack reluctantly picked up the file again flipping to the last page and quickly read. The body had been severely lacerated, and the medical examiner couldn't specify what had done it, near as he could guess it was claws; though they didn't match any animal on record. But that wasn't the ultimate cause of death. The man's heart had been completely shredded without a single laceration leading into his chest cavity.

"You've got to admit Jack, this isn't exactly normal," Daniel said after a moment turning his chair so he was facing the Colonel.

"Looks to me like we've got a really creative serial killer," he returned with a shrug, but the look Daniel leveled at him was fuming. "But you think it's what? Alien?" Jack asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I think it's worth looking into, besides I found this," from underneath the rest of the folders the Doctor produced a local newspaper and passed it to Jack.

The headline read '_Rare Artifact Unearthed!_' the subtext followed '_In what is believed to have been a mass grave_' considering the technology for cameras the picture was very poor. Jack could only tell that it might once have been cubed shaped, but the years had been harsh. "And what's this got to do with it?"

"The murders began the day it went on display," it was said like that one fact tied it all together.

Jack shrugged, "Coincidence."

"Would the fact that the attacker leaves absolutely no evidence behind? It's like he doesn't even exist, the only consistent thing detectives keep finding is sulfur residue."

"And that means something to you?" Jack asked with a skeptically raised brow.

Daniel just gaped at him, "None of this makes you the least bit interested? The fact that they can't identify the weapon or explain how sulfur is left in the wounds? Not to mention the fact that there's never any sign of forced entry?" he was incredulous.

The Colonel leaned back in his chair, he recognized that tone in Daniel's voice, he could be like a dog with a bone; refusing to relinquish it without a fight. "Yeah," he drawled "Don't we have enough threats to worry about off world? Why not just leave this to the locals?"

Daniel just shook his head gathering up the files into a neat pile, "I've always wondered how it was that you were chosen for the Stargate expedition, you have next to no curiosity." His tone was exasperated as he got to his feet.

"Things are quiet here right now," Jack attempted to placate, "But who knows how long they'll stay like this, I doubt the General will want to get pulled into this."

"Get pulled into what?" General Hammond's deep voice asked from behind Jack, and he watched as the spark of hope in Daniel's eyes ignited again.

"Here we go…" he muttered to himself with an exaggerated role of his eyes.

WMWMW

"Damn," Dean breathed fingers tailing along side a deep gouge mark in the concrete foundation of the old home.

"The EMF's off the chart," Sam informed from across the room, though Dean could hear it crackling angrily from where he stood.

Though dimly lit Dean could easily make out the blood splatters covering almost every surface of the small basement, the body had been removed but the smell lingered. It fought against the piercing stench of sulfur which was hanging heavy in the air. Dean could see lingering traces of the yellowish substance inside the claw marks.

"What're you thinking?" the older Winchester asked turning away from the carnage to fix and eye of his little brother.

Sam's attention was devoted to the room, as he stood rooted in place taking in every detail, "Not sure," he confessed finally. "Bobby was a little vague over the phone."

"Only because his informant didn't give him anything to go on," Dean tossed back, a job was a job, but he never liked walking into them blind.

"Well the demonic signs in the area would have drawn us sooner or later," he trailed off brown eyes sweeping the room yet again, "Feels odd though…."

"Your Spidy sense tingling?" Dean deadpanned.

Sam calmly flipped him off in response, "There's no local folklore about this happening every so many years…"

"So what's changed?" it was a rhetorical question and they both knew it.

"Well there's not pattern to this on the map," Sam crossed the room slipping the EMF back into his pocket, "Maybe there's something to be found in the autopsies."

Dean couldn't fight back his sigh, "Great who are we going to play at being this time?"

"You won't be doing anything," his brother was quick to respond. "It's been a month since your face was all over the news, let's not take any chances."

"Fair enough," anything to avoid wearing one of those monkey suits. "You got everything you need?" Dean asked already heading for the stairs.

"Yeah," he said following a step behind, "Hey while I'm getting the info why don't you dig deeper into the cities past? Far back as you can possibly go."

"Goodie," was Dean's dryly reply.

Stepping back onto the main floor of the house Dean came to an immediate stop left hand reached back behind him to stop Sam. The house had been cordoned off by the police for nearly a week, they were no longer keeping officers posted nearby, but Dean hadn't expected any company all the same. But there is was, a soft footstep coming from the front of the house, listening a little closer he realized it wasn't just one person but a group of them.

"Just what do you expect to find Daniel?" a tiredly sarcastic voice asked.

There was a long suffered sigh "Traces, anything the creature might have left behind."

Dean glanced back over his shoulder to Sam and jerked his head to the right. There was a back door out of the house; they'd made sure of it upon entering it was second nature to make sure they had more than one escape rout.

"You know you didn't even have to come," the second voice pointed out. The tone was calm, and it sounded far more mature than the last set of 'hunters' they'd run across.

"It was either this or stay on base for a fitness evaluation," the first returned sounding unimpressed.

Dean crossed the kitchen on silent feet Sam a half step behind them, as the new comers continued to approach. "You know you're only prolonging the inevitable," a female voice spoke up.

Slipping out the back door Dean turned to his brother, "They sound military," he commented softly making his way to the kitchen window so he could see who was there.

"What would the military care about demons?" Sam shook his head confused, but took up position opposite Dean so he too could see.

A moment later four people walked into the small kitchen, Dean focused primarily on the leader, he was military there was no mistaking it. He wore a plain black ball cap on his head, but Dean could see the hints of grey hair at his temples. Putting him at around the same age as their father, his attention quickly moved on, a younger man with glasses was pushing his way through he was holding something electronic in his hands but Dean couldn't make it out. The blond standing next to him warranted a look, though she was dressed conservatively like the men.

The last to enter the room was a tall black man, who filled the doorway, and stared impassively at the others. Dean could tell by the way he carried himself that the man was a fighter.

"Anything Daniel?" the first man asked, and the younger man looked up.

"Strong readings of sulfur," he commented taking a step towards the basement door.

"Teal'c are you aware of any species that would leave behind sulfur?" the woman asked eyes glancing around the room.

The large black man took a step forward, "No I am not," his voice was deep booming even, despite how quiet he spoke.

"Jack," Daniel said suddenly, "The readings are stronger from the basement," before he'd even finished the man had left the room.

The three exchanged glances, before Teal'c's head turned towards the window, "Colonel O'Neill, I think we are being watching."

"Shit," Dean swore moving away from the house, Sam led the way though the bush hedge into the neighbor's backyard keeping low to avoid being seen. "Glad I parked the Impala at the end of the street," he said pulling out his keys.

Sam's expression was thoughtful as he slipped into the passenger's side of the car, "Species…" he muttered more to himself than Dean, "I don't think they're hunters."

"What was your first hint?" Dean tossed back sarcastically, "They're military. At least we have more on them then they do on us." Colonel Jack O'Neill, it was a name Dean fully intended to search once they got back to the hotel.

WMWMW

"So?" General Hammond asked as the SG-1 team walked back into the briefing room, "What did you find?"

Jack pulled off his cap, rubbing his left hand through his hair; "Nothing that implies it was done by Gou'ald technology." The Colonel looked to Teal'c for confirmation.

"I sensed nothing of the Gou'ald there," he responded calmly.

General Hammond nodded, "Very well, for now we'll leave it in the hands of local authorities."

"Sir with all due respect!"

Jack was not at all surprised Daniel wasn't going to let the matter drop, "We may not be looking at the Gou'ald, but whatever has been doing this certainly isn't human." The archeologist stepped forward expression as serious as Jack had ever seen it. "I highly doubt local resources would even know where to begin."

"And where would you suggest we begin?" the General asked folding his arms across his broad chest.

A spark lit in Daniel's eyes, and he quickly dug into his bag pulling out a dark blue folder, "I think we need to start with this," he said passing the opened file to Hammond. There was no mistaking the almost childlike excitement in his voice.

The General took a moment to look over the paper; Jack already knew what it was he was reading, "You think this piece of junk could be the cause of it all?" his tone wasn't exactly incredulous after all much of what they found on their off world mission could fall under that label. "I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking at."

"I haven't been able to track down any decent pictures of it. That alone strikes me as odd," Daniel explained accepting the file back, "But I can make out some of the markings on it, I need to get a closer look."

"General, I'm inclined to agree with Daniel on this, it seems a foolish risk to take ignoring something like this," Dr Carter spoke up casting a quick glance Jack's way.

The Colonel fought back a sigh, "And if it's not alien?"

General Hammond raised his hand before Daniel could argue his point further, "What did you find at the first location?"

"Large amounts of blood and sulfur," Daniel informed immediately.

"We were also being watched," Teal'c added face expressionless.

Jack shook his head "Probably just kids."

"Could have been," Sam agreed, but quickly continued, "But murders have been known to return to the location of the attack. And we all know just because they look human doesn't mean they are."

"You got a look at them?" the General asked.

"I saw one face," the Jaffa answered.

"Alright," the General nodded, "Teal'c can you describe the face you say to a sketch artist?"

Teal'c nodded once, "I can."

"Then for the time being SG-1's mission will be to investigate these incidents," his tone had switched to that of command.

"Yes sir," Daniel responded happily, as Hammond walked from the briefing room the archeologist turned to Jack, "Why do you always fight so hard against this?"

He shrugged with a grin, "Someone has to be the voice of reason."

"With all we've seen Colonel, why would you insist on doubting this?" Samantha asked.

"If you see aliens in everything around you, you'll end up jumping at your own shadow," he told them simply.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	2. Chapter 2

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: Something I realized while I was working on this chapter. For the sake of continuity and because I haven't seen past the second season in SG-1 I'm going to focus primarily on the Supernatural time line. I know the show's crossed over for a couple of years but I just don't know enough about what the characters were like then to write them well. I'll stick with what I know for the time being. I hope to all of you that know SG-1 well that this won't affect your enjoyment of the fic! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

March 27, 2009 – Chapter updated. Morganeth Taren'drel

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from either Supernatural or Stargate SG-1.

**Chapter 2**

Dean watched Sam disappear out the motel room door, hair neatly combed full suit on, identification for the FBI in his front pocket. He was happy to let his brother take on this job, as he leaned back in his chair Sam's laptop searching a database in front of him. It hadn't taken much to find the man by the name Jack O'Neill, but the information he'd found under the name was lacking to say the least.

It was a distinguished record, but there was nothing in it that would suggest why this Air Force Colonel would be looking into a supernatural event. And it wasn't just a pastime interest as he was still in service to the army, in a department that dealt with Deep Space Radar Telemetry? Dean raised an eyebrow at the sight, whatever it was it had earned him a metal.

"Whatever it is sounds made up to me," Dean muttered to himself, pulling his cell out of his pocket and quickly searched for Ash's number.

The phone picked up on the second ring, "_This had better be important,_" the computer hacker sounded a little breathless.

"If she's that good you could have let it go to voice," Dean laughed if positions were reversed he knew he would have.

"_What do you need?_" Ash asked pointedly.

"I need you to find out everything you can about an Air Force Colonel by the name of Jack O'Neill." He responded absently reaching across the table to crank the small radio resting against the wall.

"_Any particular reason?_" he inquired sounding curious.

Dean pulled his free hand down his face, "I want to know why the army would suddenly be interested in demonic attacks."

"_Where are you now?_"

"Colorado Springs."

"_Nine deaths in two weeks right?_"

"You keep track of everything?" Dean returned.

"_I called Bobby about it, thought he might be interested. What he passed it off to you?_" in the background Dean could head the key strikes of Ash searching.

He nodded his head without thinking, "We were closer."

There was a moment of silence before Ash spoke up again, "_Isn't NORAD somewhere around there?_"

"I thought you had all the answers," Dean smirked, but quickly answered. "Yeah outside of the city limits, it wouldn't surprise me if he were stationed there."

"_Prepare to be not surprised,_" Ash confirmed Dean's suspicions. "_He received the Air Medal for Analysis of Deep Space Radar Telemetry?_" Ash chuckled on the other end of the phone, "I'm not an army man but even that doesn't sound quite right to me."

The hunter sighed, "I didn't call for information I could find on my own."

"_Right,_" Ash brushed his complaint aside, "_Give me some time, it'll take a while to hack NORAD's computer systems._"

"Call me when you get something," Dean said before hanging up. Tossing the phone back on the table, Dean glanced over the books and papers Sam had gathered most were the usual reports that suggested demonic activity. They had a list of names, the men and women that had been killed in the past two weeks, but so far Dean couldn't see a pattern.

With a sigh Dean got to his feet and shrugged into his leather jacket, he couldn't research on an empty stomach. Slipping his cellphone into his pocket Dean picked up the keys to the motel room and walked outside. There was a convenience store just down the road.

Stepping inside the Gas'n Go Dean's eyes caught site of the local newspaper, and he picked it up out of habit and strolled deeper into the store. The main headline wasn't about the murders, which surprised him. Folding the paper in his left hand Dean quickly grabbed a sandwich, drink, and snack before paying and making his way back to the motel room.

He tossed the paper down on the table looking at the front page picture, an eyebrow quirked. It looked like the camera had been out of focus when the picture was taken; "Huh…" he grunted retaking his seat behind the laptop.

Dean had only just taken a bite of his sandwich when his cell went off. Dusting his hands off the hunter pulled the small device out of his pocket, a glance at the ID told him it was Sam. "Yeah, what'd you got?"

"_Got lunch without me I see._"

"You wouldn't have hand anything anyways," Dean smirked taking another bite of his food.

"_I've got the reports,_" Sam said getting to the matter at hand, "_Turns out I'm not the first person outside of the police to look into this._"

"Who got there first?" he asked cracking open his drink.

"_An archeologist, if you can believe that, he's got some high end job at NORAD, I couldn't get much information beyond that._"

Dean looked up eyes catching sight of the newspaper, "Archeologist you said?"

"_Yeah why?_"

"City found an ancient burial site about a month ago; two weeks ago they uncovered a strange artifact," Dean read off the highlights.

"_That's right around the time the murders started,_" Sam commented.

"Right, so get back here, I've got Ash searching for Jack O'Neill, what I found just doesn't add up."

"_I'm on my way,_" Sam said before the line went dead.

---SPN/SG-1---

"This is the kid you saw?" Jack asked holding the paper in front of him. Teal'c had just finished with the sketch artist, and the result was a surprisingly detailed picture of a man who Jack thought might have been in his late twenties.

"What do you think Jack?" Daniel spoke up.

Jack shook his head, "Could just be a curious neighbor."

"Sir, considering what we may be dealing with I think we should run it through the system, see if anything pops up." Sam suggested glancing over Jack's arm at the sketch.

He nodded in agreement, "Do it."

---SPN/SG-1---

"This can't be the best picture they have," Sam said left hand slapping against the front of the newspaper.

Dean looked up from the autopsy reports in front of him, "There was a comment in there, about none of their best equipment getting a better shot."

Sam pulled his laptop to the edge of the table, "I'd like to take a look at this thing."

"Find out where it's on display," Dean suggested when he cell went off at his elbow, a quick glance at the screen and he flipped it open. "Yeah Ash what'd you got for me?"

"_At the moment nothing much,_" the tech admitted.

"Then why're you calling?" he returned flipping another page back in one of the folders.

"_To give you an update._"

"You haven't found anything yet, I'll be sure to give you a gold star for effort, Ash," Dean told him dryly.

On the other end of the phone Ash laughed, "_I said I haven't found much, not I haven't found anything. NORAD has records of Jack O'Neill working on base, but nothing more than his service record. However once a week they make a huge info dump, nearly double what they already have on their secured servers._"

"Okay," Dean said glancing at his brother, "That's something, when's this going to happen?"

"_Tomorrow,_" Ash replied, "_There's only a small window for me to hack the system. The information's completely gone within a couple of hours._"

Dean smiled, "Sounds like what we're looking for."

"_You should be getting the information by 4:00pm tomorrow._"

"Alright, thanks Ash," Dean shut the phone.

"You weren't able to find anything useful about O'Neill?" Sam asked brown eyes briefly leaving his computer screen.

"Just his service records with more than enough military double talk to make me wonder," he replied rubbing his right hand across his jaw, feeling the cool touch of his silver ring. "Am I reading this right? The inner lining of the heart's been completely removed?"

He saw Sam nod through the corner of his eye, "Same for every victim, the ME didn't seem to want to admit it, but it appears very ritualistic."

"Huh…" Dean muttered, "None of these victims are connected in any way are they?" the first three he looked at originated from various parts of the US and didn't seem to run in any of the same circles."

"Nothing that the police had been able to find so far," Sam confirmed, "The burial ground where the artifact was discovered was dug up by the University of the Rockies, seems they're keeping the artifact on their campus at the moment."

"Public display?" Dean asked, though it didn't really matter, they could easily find their way in. Sam just smirked returning to his research.

---SPN/SG-1---

"Just hold that there Colonel," Dr. Fraiser instructed, no matter how many times she'd taken blood it was always the same. Jack bent his elbow keeping pressure on the inside of the joint.

"Colonel!" Samantha's voice called as she rounded the corner into the base's infirmary.

"Captain Carter," he greeted, "What have you got for me?" Jack glanced over to Janet, "Am I done here?"

She smiled, "For now, thank you Colonel."

"Always a pleasure," he replied only letting it sound a little dry. "So, what has you looking so excited?" Jack asked again as he pulled the sleeve of his shirt back down.

"Teal'c's sketch caught a hit in the FBI's database, a Dean Winchester," she explained glancing down into the folder she was carrying.

"What's he on their list for?"

"A host of offenses," Sam replied, "Murder topping the list, along with breaking and entering, theft, and desecration of human corpses." Sam raddled them off as they made their way back up to the briefing room, "One of the more interesting notes in his file is the date of his death October 18th Last year in St. Lewis."

Jack looked as her skeptically, "There's more?" he knew there had to be beyond that, what with Teal'c seeing him earlier that day.

"Only a few weeks ago in Milwaukee Wisconsin, Dean and his brother Samuel took part in a bank robbery," flipping back a couple of the folder's pages Sam glanced back up at him "They somehow managed to escape the scene and the FBI."

"So what the hell is he doing here?" Jack asked directing his question at the other members of his team, as Daniel looked up from the computer terminal he was sitting at.

"Uh…" Daniel began glancing back at his screen, "To be honest we're not sure."

"Well do you at least know if they're human?" if they were there was no point in pursuing them. There were bigger threats for them to be worrying about than a couple of psychos the FBI couldn't get their hands on.

"Not sure about that either," Daniel replied turning his computer screen towards Jack so he could see the pictures it was displaying. "These are the crime scene photos from St. Lewis, unless he has an identical twin that's Dean Winchester's body."

Sam passed the folder she was carrying over so Jack could see the boy's mug shot. There was no mistaking the body in the pictures was a dead ringer for Dean Winchester. The rest of the information in the folder confirmed that the boy didn't have any other siblings besides Samuel and that both his parents were dead. Jack sighed shaking his head, "This is far from conclusive."

"Well there's one thing we know for certain," Daniel commented coming to his feet, "Dean Winchester isn't dead."

Jack sighed, "Alright so contact this," he glanced back down at the name, "Henricksen, tell him we've got a lead on his case."

He could tell Daniel was going to protest before he'd even opened his mouth, "Jack I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why?" he returned immediately, "We've got no proof that these are anything other than highly resourceful psychopaths I believe that falls under the FBI's jurisdiction."

"Colonel O'Neill," Teal'c's booming voice cut off whatever Daniel had been about to say in response.

The Jaffa was sitting at another computer, "What did you find?" he asked squinting at the screen from where he stood, it looked like surveillance footage.

"Something you should see," he replied simply, and they all quickly crowded behind the computer. "I believe this answers the question about Dean Winchester."

Jack watched as the boy in question approached the high end home, the footage was somewhat grainy. But there was no mistaking what Teal'c had been talking about when Dean looked up directly at the camera. His eyes flashed brightly before he disappeared inside the house.

"Jack!" Daniel exclaimed, "He's a Gou'ald."

"Last I checked they couldn't exactly rise from the dead either," the Colonel commented, "Lest not without a sarcophagus."

"Sir, if they are Gou'ald what have they been doing all this time?" Samantha asked folding her arms across her chest.

"Perhaps they are of the Tok'ra," Teal'c offered solemnly.

O'Neill shook his head, it didn't really matter one way or the other, if these boys were Gou'ald then they needed to be brought in. "We'll need to track them down," he said opening the folder once more, "Take all available resources."

"Yes sir," Sam nodded taking the folder back from him before leaving the room.

"I take it you've found something Colonel," General Hammond said as he stepped out of his office.

"Looks like a couple of rouge Gou'alds," he said with a nod, directing the General's attention to the computer screen. Daniel stepped forward with a second folder no doubt containing information on Dean Winchester.

Hammond passed a piece of paper to Jack, "Well they might be a step ahead of you," he commented tone gruff. "You're personnel records were accessed by an unauthorized user, a few hours ago."

"They must have heard your name at the house," Daniel commented.

"Well that's an honor," Jack said sarcastically dropping down onto one of the leather chairs. "Does this seem odd to anyone else?" he asked after a moment. "When was the last time we came across the Gou'ald acting this way?"

"What do you mean?" the archeologist questioned, "Using our technology?" he guessed.

"Yeah, haven't they always had their own, far more direct ways of dealing with us?"

Daniel shrugged, "The Winchesters may not have always been possessed by the Gou'ald."

"Can't say I'm all that comforted that two humans could have done all that they're accused of," Jack sighed, although he knew it shouldn't surprise him. He's seen far too much in his life to be left stunned by this.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	3. Chapter 3

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: Well I've committed myself to using the University of the Rockies…however on a little more research I'm not sure if any place in Colorado Springs would be a suitable location for this excavation. To any and all who read and attend, I apologize, for the sake of the fic I'm going to stick with it. I would have loved a nice museum but I couldn't track one down that would handle this sort of thing anyways…who would have thought?

**Chapter 3**

"Colonel," Samantha caught Jack's attention, "We caught a break, off one of their known aliases, Alan Stanwick," She passed a single sheet of paper to him.

Jack read the information, "They're staying at the Road Inn Motel?" he asked somewhat skeptically. He didn't know what he'd expected two Gou'ald to do, but somehow this just wasn't it.

"They've only been there for three days," Sam continued, "Sir this may rule them out as the murders."

"Oh there's plenty of rundown motels for them to hide in here," Jack drawled, turning the corner to find Daniel and Teal'c waiting for them. "What else have you dug up?"

"DMV states they drive a black 1967 Chevy Impala," Daniel shrugged, obviously not thinking it important information.

"Alright let's put out a BOLO for the car, just to our own men," he clarified, "I'd rather not get the local law enforcement involved." Samantha nodded curtly and made her way down the hall. "Might as well take a look at their motel room; see if it can't shed any light on this," Jack commented to the two other members of his team.

"O'Neill," Teal'c said drawing all eyes to him, "I believe we should take these," from his belt Teal'c removed one of the small Jaffa snake stunners.

He nodded, walking down the corridor to the armory.

--SPN/SG-1--

"Dude, the Jeffersonian?" Dean asked unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

"What?" his brother shrugged, straightening his tie, "It's the perfect way in."

"Way in? Sure…" he commented grudgingly, "Perfect? Far from it."

Sam gave him a deadpan look, "Bikini Inspector will only get you so far Dean."

"But far in all the right places," he returned with a laugh, shrugging into his black jacket before picking up his EMF and slipping it into the inside pocket. Sam didn't bother responding to him just picked up his keys and opened the motel room door.

Climbing into the Impala Dean quickly fished out one of his AC/DC cassettes and popped it into the player. "So just what do you plan to do if they ever come out with a new CD?" Sam couldn't help but ask as they pulled away from the motel.

'_C? D?_' Dean mouthed as though hearing it for the very first time. He shook his head, "Sorry never heard of it," Dean cranked the volume, his right hand smacking the steering wheel to the beat, as he sang along.

--SPN/SG-1--

Jack chose to forgo asking for a key from the owner of the motel, and instead picked the lock. They'd been lucky upon arrival there was no sign of the Winchester's Impala. Opening the door carefully, Jack stepped inside the room, eyes scanning for any signs of traps or weapons.

Stepping out of the way so the others could come in Jack studied the lay of the room, noticing distinct differences in the two men. The bed furthest from the door was neatly made, while the other remained a mess, food wrappers scatter around both that bed and the table. Daniel and Sam were going through the stacks of papers spread across the flat surface while Teal'c stood near the door quietly observing.

"Jack," Daniel exclaimed, "They've got copies of all the autopsy reports."

Sam lifted a sheet of paper, "Here are the names of the victims," she read a little more. "It looks like they're trying to come up with a pattern among the victims?" the Captain left it a question, and Jack could understand why.

Removing his cap, Jack ran one hand over his short hair, "This is making less and less sense."

"They also have several articles on the archeological find; maybe they made the same connection I did…" Daniel said the last more to himself than the others.

"You still think that, thing is a part of this?" Jack asked, Daniel hadn't mentioned it since the Colonel had first stumbled on his friend going over the autopsy reports.

Daniel shrugged clearly not willing to commit, "It's worth looking into."

"Alright, go check it out," Jack ordered, "We'll set up surveillance here see if the Winchesters come back."

--SPN/SG-1--

As it turned out the university's main campus wasn't all that far from where they were staying, Dean quickly found a place for them to park, and reluctantly shut his baby off, killing the music in the process. It felt wrong every time. Getting out of the Impala, Dean smirked catching several appreciative looks directed at his car.

"Are you coming?" Sam asked bringing Dean's attention back to the hunt.

He loosened the neck of his tie a little and stepped around the car to meet his brother. "Do you know which building?" he question glancing around the open space, large buildings rising up all around them.

"Yeah," his brother nodded pointing across the road to a brick building with a large tree covered lawn in front of it.

"Okay," Dean drawled flipping his keys in his right hand before sliding them into his pocket.

They made it through the doorway, without meeting any resistance, whether it was the suits or their confidence that they had a right to be here, Dean didn't know or care. He let Sam take the lead, as they came to a desk and office tucked in the corner of a three hall corridor.

"Good morning," Sam greeted using his most sincere smile. "I'm Sam Flynn, and this is my associate Dean Koonz," his voice was smooth as he took out the ID passing it across the desk. Dean cringed internally at the names Sam had chosen, he recognized them from a few of the books his brother liked to read.

"Could you tell me where I can find the artifacts recently dug up from the burial site?" Dean stepped forward also handing his card in, to the older woman sitting behind the desk. She reminded him of one of his eighth grade teachers a woman who had disliked him immediately. Dean offered her his best smile.

"You're from the Jeffersonian," she said passing back the IDs, "I was told you wouldn't be arriving until the end of the week."

Sam rolled with the problem like it was second nature, "Sorry, communications must have been crossed, we're very interested to see what you've uncovered here."

She offered Sam a smile, her eyes glancing over Dean, and too his surprise the expression didn't slip. "Its right down this hall," she indicated the one to her right, "Last door on you left."

"Thank you," Sam nodded even as Dean was making his way down the hall.

"Good thing they weren't already here," Dean commented voice low.

"I told you it was the perfect way in."

Dean smirked, "Couple more days, and you'd have been had."

"But I wasn't," Sam returned simply, waiting for Dean to open the door for him.

The room on the other side of the door was huge, wooden tables lining the center of the room, in four neat rows. Each was covered in bones, along with what looked like pots, broken arrow heads, and a number of items Dean couldn't even name. More interesting than all that was the fact the EMF meter in his pocket went off the minute he crossed the threshold after Sam. His hazel eyes immediately sought out why. At the head of the room sitting on the only table perpendicular to the others sat the artifact they'd come to see.

Dean reached into his pocket to turn the volume down completely not wanting to draw attention, though Sam hadn't missed the high pitched buzzing. They shared a brief look before one of the women in the room came to greet them.

"Can I help you?" she asked with a slightly shy smile.

Before Dean could get a word out, Sam had stepped forward, "We're from the Jeffersonian. We'd like to take a look at your artifacts if you don't mind."

"Got here early did you?" the girl's expression dropped immediately, "I know Tom Dancel spoke to you over the phone, we're not handing over any of our findings to the Jeffersonian. We've got just as much right to research them as you!"

Dean held up his hands in a placating gesture, "We don't have any intention of taking all this away from you; we'd just like to look around." He extended his hand, a compelling smile curving his lips, "My name's Dean, and this is Sam."

A slight blush colored her features, "Oh," was her barely audible response. "I'm Rachel," she said taking Dean's hand then Sam's. "You wouldn't believe the trouble we've been having from your higher-ups. They may be the foremost experts, but we're not about to be kicked out of the find of our life time."

"Totally understandable," Dean agreed casting a brief glance at his brother.

Sam's eyes were locked on the artifact. "Would you mind showing us what you have?" he requested, and Dean couldn't help but smirk as he watched her green eyes light up.

"Well so far we know it was a Native American tribe, though we haven't yet been able to identify which…" her conversation with Sam went on as Dean subtly made his way towards the artifact.

He caught a couple of looks from the men and women cataloging their findings, but no one stepped out to stop him. Obviously Rachel's approval was enough for the rest. Dean pulled the EMF from his pocket careful to keep it out of sight as he swept the tables that he passed  It was hard to tell if anything other than the central artifact was setting the meter off as only the last two lights in the array were flickering.

The lights went solid as Dean came to the table, slipping the EMF back into his pocket the hunter looked the item over. He found it immediately hard to stare at, Dean knew his eyes were fine, and yet it felt weird to look at it. From what he could tell, it looked to be made of bone or ivory, though he supposed it was just as possible that it was petrified wood. No matter what it was made of Dean could smell fresh blood around it, and thought he saw a small hit on the blood near the top, where it might separate into a lid.

"Fascinating isn't it?" a deep voice asked and Dean looked up to see an older man, hair graying at the temples standing on the other side of the table. He offered Dean a brief smile before extending his hand, "I'm Tom Dancel, head of the dig."

Dean accepted the man's hand, "Dean Koonz from the Jeffersonian."

"You're here early," he commented.

"Change of plans," Dean brushed the matter aside, "I really wanted to get a personal look at this…" he trailed off, not sure what to call it.

Tom folded his arms across his chest, looking down at the box, "To be honest we're not sure what to call it either, I've never seen anything like it, and I've searched just about every possible database out there."

"Have you opened it?" Dean asked.

"You've got a sharp eye, Mr. Koonz."

He shook his head, "Just Dean."

"Most of the people working here didn't even notice that it was a box, it's awfully hard to look at," Tom confessed.

"Yeah I saw the picture in the local paper, have you tried any other forms of imaging?" he realized it was probably a stupid question, but he needed to know.

Tom nodded his head emphatically, "MRI, laser scan, just about every camera known to man, both film and digital, along with camcorders." His left hand reached up to scratch at his cheek, "But it doesn't surprise me, if it's this hard on the eyes without equipment what chance does technology have?"

"When did you take it off display?" Dean asked.

"Six days ago," Tom answered, "I decided to pull the exhibit, when we began receiving messages that the artifact was linked to the sudden rash of deaths."

"Does seem like an odd coincidence," he nodded.

Tom leaned on the table, "But that's all it is, how could an ancient box murder people?" he asked though Dean suspected the man didn't want an answer.

"Have you tried night vision?" he tossed the idea out bringing the conversation back to the original matter.

The archeologist looked confused for a moment, "No, if we can't see it in the best light what chance do we have in the dark?" Tom nearly scoffed.

Dean's eyes caught sight of a camcorder sitting on the counter behind Tom, "Do you mind?" he asked pointing at the camera.

The archeologist seemed to consider it for a moment, before shrugging, "Can't hurt, we've tried everything else."

Stepping around the table Dean picked up the small camcorder, and flipped open the screen turning it on. Just for his own understanding Dean zoomed in on the item, but the box was even blurrier than when he looked at it unassisted.

"David, could you hit the lights?" Tom asked.

Dean noticed that Sam and Rachel had finally made their way to the last table, and Rachel's pretty face was looking confused. "What are you doing?" she asked Tom, curiously.

"Just testing how night vision might do for viewing the artifact," Tom explained just as the lights went out.

Switching the camera to night vision Dean felt Sam's presence come up behind him, looking over his shoulder. Dean first did a careful sweep of the whole room, knowing none could see what he was actually doing. He was surprised at the number of flare-ups glowing brightly from various tables, and turning the camera to the main focus of the room it was no surprise why.

The artifact was near blinding on the camera screen; he guessed that the bones and what not around the room had more than likely been resting against the box before being discovered.

"Dean, zoom in," Sam whispered.

"What have you found?" Tom asked coming over to Dean's other side, his eyes clearly having adjusted to the darkness. "What the hell is that?" he demanded when he saw the screen. "It shouldn't be glowing like that."

Dean didn't bother trying to come up with an explanation, instead he moved closer to the object choosing not to use the technology to give him a better look. Shifting the camera around Dean had to bite down, on his thrill of success. He'd found an angle that gave an almost crystal clear view of the small box, and at least one symbol that was etched into it.

"Sorry to have wasted your time," Dean said shutting down the camera while quickly popping out the memory card. "All the darn thing does it glow, can't make anything out."

"But why would it do that?" Tom squinted as the lights were turned back on.

Sam stepped forward taking the man's attention as Dean put the camcorder back where he'd found it. "Why can't we look at it with our eyes without a headache forming behind them?" he posed the rhetorical question, extending his hand to Tom. "Thanks for your time, and thank you Rachel, your knowledge of the dig has been very helpful."

Dean also shook both hands, offering Rachel a wink only to see her blush again. "Would it be a problem for us to visit the actual site?" Sam requested.

"No not at all," Tom replied though he sounded disappointed, "I'll let security there know you're coming."

"Thanks again," Sam said before he and Dean made their way out the door, once in the hall Sam turned to his brother, "You found something didn't you?"

Dean couldn't contain his cocky smirk, "Damn right," he nearly crowed tossing the memory card once in his hand.

"Looks like we'll be sneaking into the site," Sam commented, though he didn't sound put out.

As they walked outside the building making their way back to the Impala, Dean tossed a look at his little brother, "Let's go get something to eat!"

"It's a quarter to four," he countered.

"And I haven't had lunch," Dean contended removing the keys from his pocket to unlock the Impala's door. "Did you bring your laptop with you?" he asked not remembering seeing Sam put it in the car.

Sam nodded his head, "Wasn't sure if we'd still be out when Ash called."

"Well you can take a look at this," Dean said tossing his brother the memory key as he pulled his door closed. Inserting the key into the ignition Dean started the Impala, hazel eyes checking the street both in front and behind him. He suddenly leaned closer to the side mirror staring at one man walking towards the building they'd just left.

"Dean?" Sam asked curiously.

"Isn't that one of the men we saw at the house?" Dean muttered not taking his eyes off the well dressed man, his brown hair nearly as long as Sam's.

"Looks like," his brother confirmed.

Dean eased the Impala out of the parking spot, being sure to not draw attention to them by bolting, "You think they're on to us?"

"I can't imagine why," Sam said as they were leaving the University grounds, "There's nothing military about any of this."

"Didn't you say an archeologist visited the morgue before you got there?" Dean asked driving back towards their motel, there was an excellent diner just across the street.

"You think that's him?" Sam raised an eye brow slipping the memory key into his laptop. "I think his name was Daniel Jackson…"

"Look him up," Dean commented eyes instinctively glancing at their motel, and immediately Dean knew something wasn't right. Without hesitation Dean drove straight on past the diner and rounded the first corner they came too.

"I thought you were hungry," Sam said barely glancing up from his work.

"The motel's being watched," Dean told him bluntly.

Sam stopped what he was doing, "You're sure?"

"I'd like to get a better look on foot," he confirmed, there were times when driving a classic car could cause problems. But Dean would never give up his baby for something that would blend in with thousands of others.

He found another restaurant a few blocks away and purposefully parked around back, where they wouldn't be so easy to see. Turning the Impala off Dean leaned back against the seat pulling his tie off before looking at his brother. "Here, take my cell," he passed it across to Sam, "Incase Ash calls." Dean unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt, before shrugging out of the coat. "Go in order me a burger I'll be back in ten," he assured climbing out of the car, tossing the black coat into the back seat.

Sam was fast on his feet handing Dean his own phone so Dean wouldn't be out of contact. "Be careful."

"Oh and make sure they have pie!" he smirked moving to the trunk of the Impala where he'd left his own well worn leather jacket. Sam watched him laptop bag hanging over his shoulder as Dean carefully removed his Colt from the trunk along with a hunting knife. Positive no one could see him, Dean slipped them both away, before adjusting the collar on his coat.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	4. Chapter 4

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: I didn't mean for this chapter to take so long, but I admit I got a little distracted by other stories. I'm hoping it won't be so long for the next chapter to come, things are getting interesting, and although that can make it more complicated I'm really hoping it'll help speed up my writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from either Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 4**

Jack sat down on the worn bench and passed one of the two cups of coffee over to Carter. "How long?" he asked taking a sip of the steaming brew.

"Since Daniel left?" Samantha clarified, "Nearly a half hour Sir."

"_O'Neill_" Teal'c's voice cracked over the radio

"What've you got?" Jack asked, eyes scanning the busy street in front of the motel.

"_I believe they are coming_."

The Colonel heard the rumble of a vintage engine a moment before the black car rolled into view. Bringing the coffee to his lip Jack waited to see what the Winchester's would do. The Impala slowed as though about to turn into the diner across the street. Jack's eyes narrow behind his sunglasses when he saw the driver's head turn. A second later the Impala accelerated down the street.

"Shit," Jack growled getting up from the bench and jogged towards the road trying to see which way they'd gone.

Samantha was half a step behind him, "Did they make us?"

"Yeah," he wasn't too surprised, if he was being hunted by the Feds he'd have been on the look out too.

Teal'c appeared from further down the street, "Should I follow them?"

The demanding ring of his cell halted Jack's response, "O'Neill," he answered abruptly.

"_Colonel,_" General Hammond's voice spoke clearly into his ear, "_There's been a breach of security, report back to the base immediately,_" he kept the conversation short.

Jack pulled a hand down his jaw, "This day just keeps getting better and better…"

"Sir?" Carter asked looking up at him.

"Get Daniel back here," he ordered turning towards the office for the motel.

---SPN/SG-1---

Dean glanced around the edge of the diner, looking across the busy street to the motel he and Sam had been staying at. Jack O'Neill stood out like a sore thumb, dressed in civvies he still screamed military as did the man and woman standing with him. Dean sighed; it was obvious one of them had seen him back at the house, though he had to admit he was impressed at how quickly they'd managed to track him down. He wasn't sure what to think of the fact that the Feds hadn't been called in, or at least they hadn't appeared to be.

It didn't change all that much for Dean, after the incident in Milwaukee, he and Sam were getting used to working under the radar. But it did raise more questions about what the military was doing getting involved in something like this. Why wouldn't they have just passed it off to the FBI?

He watched as a nondescript car pulled up in front of the motel, recognizing the driver as the man from the university. The one they believed to be Daniel Jackson. Dean leaned back against the diner, as all four drove off. Sam's cell went off in his pocket, and Dean checked the ID before answering.

"They found us Sammy," he said forgoing the usual greeting.

"_Who?_" Sam asked concerned, "_Henricksen?_"

"No, it was O'Neill and the others from the house," Dean scanned up and down the street carefully looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"_It didn't take them long to find us,_" Sam commented, "_I'd say that's the least of our worries right now. Are you on your way back?_"

"No," Dean shook his head slightly, "I'm going to go clean out the room. Has Ash called?"

Sam was silent for a minute, "_Yeah._"

"And?" he prompted jogging across the street.

"_And, you're not going to believe the shit we've stumbled into,_" Sam said cryptically.

Dean rolled his eyes stepping up to their door pulling the key from his pocket, "Don't leave me in suspense here Sammy."

"_Better you wait until you can see it all with your own eyes._"

He could hear the smile in his brother's voice; "Give me something," Dean demanded slowly pushing the door open. The room looked just the way they'd left it, lived in.

"_Fine, you remember the big black guy?_" Sam began.

"Yeah I remember, I think Jack called him Tealk or something," Dean returned pulling together their clothes, "What about him?"

"_The name was Teal'c,_" Sam clarified, "_He's not human_."

Dean stopped what he was doing, shifting the cell to his other ear, "Shapeshifter?" he asked it was the first nonhuman creature that came to mind.

"_Jaffa_," his brother answered as Dean gathered up the last of the papers and folders that had been strewn about the table.

"A what? Jaffa?" he thought about the name for a minute, "Never heard of it."

"_There's good reason for that,_" Sam said sounding stunned, "_He's not from Earth._"

Dean laughed zipping closed both his and Sam's duffel, "Right, seriously though."

"_I told you, you'd want to see it with your own eyes,_" he brother contended.

"Alright, I'm on my way back now," Dean scanned over the room one last time to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything important, before heading out the door.

---SPN/SG-1---

"At 16:00 our firewall was breached," General Hammond announced to the full briefing table.

Jack and the rest of SG-1 had arrived no less than five minutes ago, to find that a meeting had been called in their absence. "How much did they get?" the Colonel asked, twisting his chair towards the General.

"Everything," Hammond responded darkly looking to Sergeant Walter Harriman.

"Whoever this was, they knew exactly when to strike," Harriman said folding his hands on top of the table. "They were in and out almost before we even realized the threat. So far we've back traced the user through more than two dozen servers bouncing between at least five different countries."

Jack raised his hand to end the techno babble, "Are we going to be able to find them?" that was really all that mattered.

Harriman looked less than pleased, "It's not looking promising."

"We know from the records that you pulled that these Winchesters are resourceful to say the least," the General continued looking to Jack and the rest of his team.

"Sir resourceful is one thing Sir," Samantha spoke up, "I don't think they were behind this, or at the very least they were busy at the time of the breach." Captain Carter glanced Daniel's way.

"That's right, they were at the University of the Rockies, during that time," Daniel put in leaning against the table.

The General sighed, "And do we know what they were doing there?"

"Looking into the artifact," Daniel supplied immediately, "They claimed to be from the Jeffersonian."

Jack shook his head, still unable to get his mind around what these Gou'ald were trying to do.

"Colonel?"

"Yes General," Jack returned looking up.

"What's your take on this situation?"

"Well Sir, I think we need to get a handle on this and fast, we can worry about the how and whys later. We have an idea of where the Winchesters will be; I want to bring them in." Jack leaned against the table flashing his eyes across all the men present.

Daniel raised his hand, "I also think we should bring the artifact in for further study."

General Hammond nodded, "Make the requisition." His attention returned to Jack, "Colonel whether these Gou'ald were behind the breach or not, bring them in. I don't believe in coincidences."

---SPN/SG-1---

Sam swallowed a mouthful of his beer watching Dean over the rim of his glass. They'd moved on from the restaurant to a small pub near the outskirts of the city, wanting to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the motel. Sam was itching to get his hands back on the laptop so he could continue research, not only did he have all the information Ash had acquired for them. But there was also the video footage Dean had taken, along with research on the artifact itself.

Sam smiled at the expression on Dean's face, he'd been watching as his brother's features danced between shock and disbelief with a little concern thrown into the mix. He'd already had a chance to go through some of the information Ash had sent, enough to know they were in way over their heads. It shocked him more than a little that there could be something this big going on that they weren't aware of. Sam was used to being the one in the know.

"Woah," Dean said shaking his head, and leaned back, "So much for aliens being a hoax."

"If it makes you feel any better Big Foot still is," Sam offered reaching for his laptop as Dean took a long pull on his beer.

Dean draped his arm across the back of the bench, "Oddly enough it doesn't," he drained the last of his drink, and signaled the waitress for another round. "So what would they want with a demon?"

They stared at each other for a couple of minutes, the pretty waitress placing a new glass of beer on either side of the table before taking their empty glasses away. Sam finally shrugged, "Go with what you know."

"You think they're seeing aliens," Dean agreed it made sense, but groaned, "I can't decide if they're more dangerous than the cops."

"At least they have an idea of what they're doing," the younger hunter commented looking up from his laptop. "There is something that's bugging me though."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

Sam leaned on the table, "If the SGC has tracked us down, why not call in the Feds?"

"You want Henricksen on our asses?" Dean scoffed.

"No, but why haven't they called?" his brother asked, "It doesn't make sense."

Dean considered that for a minute sipping at his beer, "Go with what you know…" he repeated his brother's words. "Henricksen thinks we're some crazy satanic serial killers right?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed obviously waiting for Dean to finish his thought.

The older Winchester shrugged, "What if they're seeing alien activities in what we do?"

"They'd want to handle it themselves."

"Exactly," Dean nodded pointing at his brother.

"Well one thing's for sure," Sam commented picking up his full glass, "They're going to make the job a lot harder."

Dean could only nod in agreement to that, "Are we any closer to knowing what we're hunting exactly?"

"No," Sam conceded both hands returning to his laptop. "You got a good image of one of the symbols, but I'm having a hard time tracking it down. It doesn't seem to match with any Native American sign at least not that the Crow used."

"But we can't even be sure which tribe they've uncovered."

Sam shrugged, "It's the logical place to start."

The Hunter finished his beer shifting in his seat, "We going to sit here all night, or go check that site out?"

"Fine we'll go," his brother said with an exaggerated sigh, "But tomorrow you're going to the library."

Dean shook his head with a crooked grin and slipped from the booth pulling a few bills from his pocket to toss on the table. He waited for Sam to pack away his computer before leading the way out of the pub; he offered the waitress a smile as he passed, receiving a wink for his efforts.

Dean strode to the back of the Impala and popped the trunk. Grabbing the battered duffel bag he reached in and lifted the false bottom. He filled the bag quickly with some supplies while Sam stood next to him keeping an eye out. "Here," he said drawing Sam's attention as he passed their digital camcorder to his brother. Slipping his EMF meter back into his coat pocket, Dean slung the duffel over his shoulder and shut the trunk.

The drive to the archeological site was less than five minutes outside the city, and Dean drove past slower eyes sweeping over the security they had posted. Turning onto a dirt side road, Dean put the Impala in park, and quickly got out.

The night sky was completely overcast as Dean and his brother made there way around the out side of the fenced off parameter. Security was lax to say the least Dean had seen the guard station as they'd passed by but hadn't seen anyone waiting inside. He quickly found a spot where he could cut their way in. Dean held the chain link fence back so Sam could slip through behind him before pulling out his flashlight.

"Think the guards are asleep?" Dean asked with a smirk as he stepped deeper into the dig.

They came to a stop, when the glow from Dean's flashlight began to flicker, "I don't think so…" Sam breathed in reply; the EMF meter went off in Dean's pocket only confirming their suspicions.

Dean immediately went for his shot gun, tossing one across to Sam, before continuing to the edge of the pit. The EMF screeched as Dean made his way down the roughly carved out steps. Dean heard a harsh gurgling sound, and motioned for Sam to cover him. On the count of three they rounded a rocky out cropping. Dean didn't hesitate in firing his gun as the shadowy creature standing over the bloodied body of the guard.

The creature reminded Dean of the Daevas they'd faced in Chicago, only it possessed a visible form beyond just a shadow on the ground. It screamed in pain, stumbling away from the dead guard as the rock salt rounds collided with it.

"Not what I expected to find!" Dean called to his brother, popping open the shotgun and pulled out the spent rounds.

The demon surprised Dean, instead of turning to face them, it melted into the darkness.

"What the hell was that?" Sam demanded, eyes darting around the shadows, "A Daeva?"

"I don't think so," the older Winchester made his way to the dead guards side. The body had been torn to shreds by the demon's claws, the heart pulled free of the chest cavity. It was identical to the reports he'd read on the other victims. Dean pulled a hand down his jaw with a sigh, "I guess this bring the death toll to ten."

"You think it's still here?"

Dean shrugged and pulled the EMF from his pocket sweeping it across the guard's body; the levels it was registering were high. Sam began searching the site with the camcorder, "I'm picking up a lot of hot spots but no sign of the demon."

"How is it picking its targets?" it was a rhetorical question.

Dean shut off the EMF and slipped it back into his pocket. With a sigh he reached down to picked up the small plastic name tag that had been torn from the guard's shirt. He ran his thumb across the bloodied surface squinting to read the name, T. Eckhart.

"Did you hear that?" Sam asked softly.

Dean listened intently, hearing the sounds of gravel scrape against itself. Adjusting his grip on the shot gun, Dean turned sharply to face whatever was approaching flashlight raised in an attempt to blind.

The shot came without warning, a flash of blue lightning that enveloped Sam a second before his brother cried out in pain, convulsing to the ground. "Sammy!" he shouted, panic gripping him.

He didn't even have a chance to see where the shot came from, the pain was blinding, causing every muscle in his body to cease up. Blackness swam in front of Dean's eyes, and his heart thundered against his chest. He couldn't breath, and knew immediately that he was loosing the fight to remain conscious.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	5. Chapter 5

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: Funny story about this chapter. I'd of course chosen the name for this story a long time ago, but up until this chapter I wasn't entirely convinced it was the right choice. Titles don't always come before story, for me I'd say it's about fifty/fifty. But while working on the last scene of this chapter the reason for this title became very clear to me, I find that amusing five chapters in.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter despite the difficulties that come with a crossover. I find crossovers are hardest to write when the characters from the two shows are finally interacting with each other and not just the people that are from their show. It can feel like too much information dumping on both sides. I'd originally thought that I'd be at an advantage with the Winchesters knowing about the SGC. It wasn't as much of an advantage as I thought.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 5**

Dean's mind snapped back to consciousness in a heartbeat. Residual pain from the agony that had pulled him into the blackness sent tremors racing down his spine. His heart remembered the panic he'd felt and began racing like he'd run a marathon. Dean felt entirely disoriented and allowed his instincts to take control, trusting them to protect him. He tried to move, but found his body tightly restrained.

Hazel eyes shot wide open, seeing nothing but a low hanging curved ceiling above him. Dean tried to look down his body, but couldn't even raise his head from the board he was strapped too. His body bucked violently against the restraints adrenalin drowning his system, as only one thought raced through his mind –_Sammy!_-

His ears were filled with the roar of the machine as it came to life around him. A part of Dean's mind recognized that he was somehow in an MRI, but his main focus was on his need to get free and find Sammy. He could still clearly hear and see Sam scream in pain as he'd collapsed, Dean used that image to drive himself. Focusing his efforts on his right side Dean tore his arm free of the restraints ignoring the pain, and immediately began on his other arm.

The MRI beep a sharp warning and a second later Dean found himself being pulled from the tunnel. He squinted through the bright lights barely recognizing the military uniforms of the men wrestling to pin him back to the table. In the very back of his mind Dean knew he was fighting a loosing battle, but he wasn't about to stop.

The fight was over the minute his brain registered a needle prick in his arm. Almost immediately all strength left Dean's body, as he fell back into the black pit.

---SPN/SG-1---

"Alright let's get him back in there," Jack ordered as the two armed guards held Dean Winchester back against the table. Dr. Fraiser was looking rather stunned where she stood near the head of the MRI, right hand still holding the syringe she'd injected the man with.

Jack stepped around the table and placed a guiding hand on Janet's arm, "Doctor," he said drawing her attention to him.

"Right," Dr. Fraiser said with a slight shake of her head following him to the computer terminal. "If the strength he displayed is any indication this is little more than a formality," she said starting the machine again once the guards were back in position.

"Could just be adrenalin," Jack commented folding his arms across his chest.

They'd already examined Samuel Winchester and to their surprise found him to be clean of any alien life forms. Jack had been more interested in Dean however since they had clear footage that told them he was a Gou'ald or at one time been possessed. Leaning back against the wall, Jack watched over Janet's shoulder as a high resolution image slowly formed on the screen in front of them.

"I don't believe it," the Colonel stated flatly.

Dr. Fraiser shook her head, "I'm sorry Colonel, there's absolutely no sign of a Gou'ald inside this man."

"Any indication that there was once?" he asked.

The doctor shut down the MRI before turning to Jack, "Not that I'm seeing here, I'll examine them both further, but I think they're clear of alien life forms."

"I want to be sure Doc," Jack said firmly, looking through the window to where his men were pulling Winchester from the machine.

"I'll run every test I can," she assured.

"Call me as soon as you know something," he said making his way over to the door.

"Yes Sir," he heard Janet say to his retreating back.

Colonel O'Neill strode out of the infirmary, and made his way towards General Hammond's office. He took the steps two at a time, striding into the empty briefing room, and took a minute to study one of the computer monitors. It displayed an image of the holding cell Samuel had been locked away in, just off from the main infirmary. Jack could see the boy lying on the bottom bunk, and didn't appear to have regained consciousness yet, unlike his brother.

Coming to a stop outside the General's office, Jack rapped lightly with his knuckle against the opened door, "Sir?"

"Come in Colonel," Hammond bade with a wave of his hand.

Jack stepped into the office, "MRI shows no signs of Gou'ald inside either of the Winchesters Sir." He continued quickly seeing the General's confused look, "Dr. Fraiser is running more tests to confirm that they are human."

"Do we have any explanation for the surveillance footage?" the General asked, coming to his feet.

"Not at the moment," Jack replied following Hammond from the office back out into the briefing room. "My best guess is he was possessed at the time, but that hasn't been confirmed."

Hammond folded his arms across his broad chest and looked at the computer screen, "Are we sure of anything Colonel?" he demanded looking from Jack back to the monitor.

He hated to admit that they really weren't, "No Sir, not at the moment."

"You caught them over a dead body," General Hammond barked turning to face Jack.

"In their defense General, the Winchesters had shotguns," he wasn't sure what to think of those boys, but O'Neill knew the security guard's injuries couldn't have been caused by a gun. He could still clearly see the man's torn and bloodied body.

"Tor Eckhart wasn't killed by shotguns," Jack stated flatly, with the death toll standing at ten, they were still at a loss to find a connection between all the victims.

The General's attention had returned to the computer screen, "Get me some answers Colonel."

Jack caught site of the movement on the computer and nodded. "He ought to have what we need," Samuel had gotten up from the bed, and was glancing around his surroundings before finally looking up towards the camera.

"Keep me informed," it didn't need to be said.

"Will do," Jack replied with a nod. Going back the way he'd come O'Neill came to a stop outside the holding cell. The guards standing on either side of the door snapped to attention at his approach.

"At ease," he waved the men back, "Anything from inside?"

"No Sir, it's been all quiet."

Jack reached for the knob and pushed the door open. The room on the other side was small, one set of bunk beds pressed against the wall to his right, while a table and two chairs were to his left. Jack found the kid slouch on the bottom bunk of the bed, watching the door intently. His gaze was sharp, posture on edge as Jack made his way into the room, closing the door behind him. He took a seat in one of the chairs taking a moment to regard the boy.

"So what's the charge?" Sam asked brown eyes boring into Jack's head.

The Colonel blinked sitting a little straighter, "You have outstanding warrants in two different states, and the FBI hot on your trail, and you don't know?" his tone was incredulous.

"A little out of your jurisdiction don't you think?" Sam returned leaning forward on the bed, so elbows rested on knees.

They weren't positive what these kids knew about the SGC, but Jack considered Winchester's outward display of calm as a sign he knew at least something. Experience told Jack that the usual first question was '_Who are you?_' or '_Where am I_' the fact that Samuel overlooked either of these, only confirmed Jack's suspicions.

"You broke into a secured location," Jack said in answer to the question, "And you were standing over a corpse."

The boy sighed shaking his head, "We didn't kill him."

"Pretty sure that's what everyone says," he tossed back flippantly.

Sam rolled his easy, "Where's Dean?" he demanded changing the subject.

"You're brother?" Jack asked leaning his left arm on the surface of the grey table.

The boy nodded curtly, his expression hard to read.

"He's in the infirmary with Dr. Fraiser," the Colonel explained watching Samuel closely. The kid was good; he kept his expression blank, but Jack caught the tension in Winchester's jaw.

"What did you do to him?"

O'Neill couldn't stop the smile from pulling at his lips. He was impressed, not that he'd ever admit it. Samuel was locked up, in a high security government facility; he had no weapons, and no ground to make any demands. But despite all that the kid somehow managed to drum up a very threatening tone.

"He's fine," Jack said with a shrug.

"I want to see him," the boy's voice was firm, his eyes locking with Jack's.

The Colonel nodded his head, "Maybe later, right now I'd like to know what you two were doing at that dig site."

Winchester regarded Jack with a raised eyebrow but made no move towards answering the question.

"C'mon, I'd prefer if you'd cooperate."

Sam's eyes narrowed, "Which is why you shot first? Ask questions later?"

Jack folded his arms across his chest; "As I recall you were the one who was pointing a gun at us."

"Right…" he drew the word out folding his hands together; despite the situation Samuel was maintaining a level of calm that Jack found impressive.

"So, what were you doing last night?"

The kid stared at him, brown eyes thoughtful and he felt sure Samuel was weighing his options, not that he had all that many. "We were looking for a killer," Winchester said finally.

"Why?"

Winchester looked away with a sigh pulling a hand through his hair, "Because the police can't handle it."

"What makes you think that?" the Colonel pressed curious to see what Sam's answer would be.

"We both know no human did this," he said pointedly, his eyes returning to Jack's.

O'Neill raised an eyebrow at that declaration, and he wondered if Samuel would actually admit to the information Jack was now sure he had. "What else could?" he prompted.

Sam looked at him expression somewhat smug, "I know the SGC thinks its alien."

"Well now that's something," the Colonel drawled not letting anything show. That comment alone was further confirmation that the Winchesters had at least received the stolen information, if not been the ones to actually hack the system.

"I also have a feeling you've mistaken us for aliens."

The kid was sharp, Jack had to give him that, "How much do you think you know?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Samuel smirked, "Those guns you used, you call them Zats."

Jack opened his mouth to respond, when the door opened and Dr. Fraiser stepped into the room. "Colonel O'Neill, I'm sorry am I interrupting?"

He got to his feet shaking his head, "You ready for him doc?" he asked eying Winchester carefully. Jack wasn't about to underestimate the kid, the fact that he'd escaped a sealed bank crawling with SWAT told O'Neill there was nothing Samuel wouldn't try.

She regarded their prisoner with a small smile, "Yes Colonel."

"Alright, let's go," he said reaching down for Winchester's arm. The boy pulled away sharply but did get up from the bed. Jack found he had to remind himself that the kid was only twenty-three. Sam towered over almost everyone in the room even had a few inches on Jack himself. It helped that Sam carried himself with confidence, even in this impossible situation.

---SPN/SG-1---

Sam felt the tension build as he remained standing near the back of the room. He wasn't in the least bit interested in being experimented on by this doctor; even if she was doing everything she could to appear non-threatening. All he really wanted right now was to find Dean and make sure he was alright.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Dr. Fraiser said, her tone encouraging.

"Is Dean alright?" he asked specifically directing his question at the doctor rather than Jack.

She nodded once, "He's fine," she assured stepping aside and motioned for him to come with her.

Sam knew he could only stall so long before they'd try to drag him from the room, or worse yet, hit him with one of those zat guns again. Sam wished he'd had more time to read over all the information and mission reports Ash had gathered for them. He knew he was at some advantage for just knowing about Stargate Command, but it would have helped a lot more if he'd been versed in more of the smaller details.

"Please," the doctor tried one last attempt.

He sighed but stepped away from the beds, following Dr. Fraiser from the room. Sam was flanked immediately by Jack and the soldiers who'd been guarding his cell. He wondered if all prisoners were treated so well, had this been a police station Sam knew he'd have woken up in chains.

The infirmary wasn't far from where they'd been keeping him and Sam's brown eyes immediately fell on Dean, who was lying unconscious in a hospital bed. "Dean!" he called sharply moving without thought to his brother's side.

The guards in the room raised their weapons in warning; Sam didn't miss the sound of safeties being switched off. His eyes darted around the room, before returning to his brother when nothing else was done.

"Dean," he said again shaking the older hunter's shoulder. From what he could see of his brother, Dean didn't appear to be injured, though his right wrist was bandaged. He'd also been stripped of his clothes and redressed in a green hospital gown.

"He's alright," Dr. Fraiser said coming up beside him, seeming not to care about the guns pointed at Sam. "I was forced to sedate him for the tests; he should wake in a couple hours."

Sam looked down at her sharply, "We're not aliens," it was a statement he'd never thought he'd have to make.

"We had reason to believe you were," Jack said coming to stand on the opposite side of Dean.

"Were," Sam leapt on the wording, "So you know now we're not."

"I have my doubts," the Colonel said, nodding towards Dr. Fraiser. "Let the good doctor run her tests."

The fact that he and Dean had discussed the possibility that the SGC might mistake them for aliens did nothing really to prepare Sam for it actually happening.

"Why don't you take a seat here," the doctor suggested pointing to the bed behind Sam. "I'm going to take a blood sample for testing," she explained reaching up with her right hand to draw Sam's button down shirt off his shoulder.

The young hunter split his attention between what Dr. Fraiser was doing and watching the steady rise and fall of Dean's chest. He took the brief silence as an opportunity to try and remember what he'd read of the aliens the SGC had encountered. In an attempt to piece together what could have caused suspicion. The Gou'ald was the name that had come up the most, but that didn't tell Sam much.

Finally he just decided to ask, "What made you think alien?"

"Well the fact that you're brother faked his own death, for starters," Jack replied lightly, his tone and behavior continuing to puzzle Sam. The Colonel reminded Sam of his father in several ways, but his attitude was far more laid back, even going so far as to be outright sarcastic.

Sam thought back to the incident in Baltimore, quickly feeling the pieced fall into place and he couldn't stop the laugh from escaping him. "You thought he was a Gou'ald?" he asked, and he supposed it made sense. The eye flash of a Shapeshifter caught on camera could have been similar to what he'd read of the Gou'ald, though having never seen it he couldn't say for sure.

"Care to explain what we saw on that surveillance video of your brother?" the Colonel asked calmly.

He was tempted to say '_You wouldn't believe me_' it was the automatic response in a situation like this. But Sam knew that this time that wasn't true. With Jack's background he was probably the most likely to believe outside of another hunter. "It was a Shapeshifter."

But O'Neill was determined to surprise him, "A Shapeshifter?" his tone was skeptical, as he glanced around the room.

Sam just stared at the Colonel, "You find that harder to believe than a parasitic alien?"

"The Gou'ald I've actually seen," was O'Neill's flip response.

The hunter shook his head in disbelief, "I'm surprised you can be a skeptic and work here."

"Jack was a skeptic long before he came to the SGC."

Sam turned towards the door, and found Daniel Jackson standing across the threshold.

"Should I be surprised that you'd accept Shapeshifters as a legitimate explanation?" the Colonel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Daniel said simply adjusting his glasses, "Just about every mythology has some form of Shapeshifter lore. Just because we haven't seen one…"

"Right, fine," Jack said cutting him off, and returned his attention to Sam. "So what exactly is it you do?" he asked curiously, "Besides posing as police and digging up graves?"

Sam glanced around the somewhat crowded room, debating his answer. '_We do what we do and we shut up about it_' Dean's words echoed in his head. They'd broken the rule before when it was necessary, and Sam didn't see them walking out of here any other way.

"We're hunters," he said simply.

"Hunters," Jack repeated with a nod of his head, "Of what?"

Sam smiled a little, "The supernatural," he realized there really was no good way to say it.

The Colonel nodded his head very slowly, "Right, like ghosts?"

"Ghosts, spirits, demonic creatures, vampires, werewolves," he listed them off with a shrug, watching Jack's expression change with each added creature. "And before you say none of that is real, I was a firm believer that aliens were a hoax until I read your reports."

"Huh…" Daniel said thoughtfully, "Kind of like two sides of the same coin."

"Excuse me?" O'Neill said giving the archeologist a strange look.

"Think about it Jack, neither aliens nor the supernatural, are widely accepted as fact by the general population." He smiled appearing excited by the entire concept, "Even between our two sides, one didn't really believe the other was real."

"Right…" Jack drew the word out sounding less than convinced, "So you believe something 'Supernatural' is killing people." He didn't need to raise his fingers in quotes for Sam to know just how skeptical Jack was.

"All signs point to something demonic," Sam confirmed.

"What are the usual signs?" Daniel asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Anything from cattle death, to lightning storms," he explained directing his attention towards the archeologist. "The fact that sulfur was found on both the victims and the locations where they were killed is also a clear indicator."

"How exactly do you fight something like a demon?" Daniel inquired ignoring the way O'Neill rolled his eyes.

Sam drew in a breath, trying to decide how best to answer such a broad question. "It depends on what you're dealing with really," he began with a shrug, but Jack raised his hand to stop him.

"This is all very fascinating," O'Neill's sincerity was less than convincing. "But I need to know how you hacked the system, and how far the information got."

Sam was a little surprised that hadn't been Jack's first question, though an hour back he wouldn't have been willing to say one way or the other. Sam could only imagine the panic the SGC was in over such a security breach. However he wasn't in a hurry to hand over Ash's name, not until he knew what lengths the SGC would go to keep their secret.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	6. Chapter 6

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: I apologize for the long delay. Not only was this an incredibly difficult chapter to write, but I was also struggling with a case of writer's block the likes of which I've never seen before. I think most of the problems have been ironed out by now, but nothing can make meshing two stories together any easier even when they work as well together as SG-1 and Supernatural. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and here's hoping chapter 7 won't take so long to write!

I want to thank The Cleric 007 for taking the time to edit this chapter for me. I'd also like to thank Kim for being there to bounce ideas off of!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 6**

Dean slowly edged his way back to consciousness, his body fighting to shrug off the effects of the sedative he'd been given. Sounds were the first thing that came into focus for Dean, and he could hear voices speaking softly somewhere off to his right. Their words were too low for Dean to make out exactly what was being said. That he wasn't alone sent a shot of adrenalin coursing through his veins burning off the sluggishness that was weighing him down.

Shifting on the bed Dean forced his heavy lids to open, letting the light filter in through his lashes. He could make out the faded green of a hospital gown covering him. Memories assaulted Dean, from the last time he'd woken up in a hospital.

'_I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay?_' his dad's voice echoed in his head, sending shivers racing down his spine. '_Don't be scared, Dean,_' who was John trying to kid? He'd never been more scared in his life.

'_You have to save him, Dean, whatever it takes, nothing else matters._' He'd been so confused by those words, scared by the light he'd seen in John's eyes in those moments. '_But Dean, if you can't save him, you'll have to kill him._'

Dean shut his eyes tightly against the memory, fists coming to press against his closed lids. Some of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders after telling Sam the truth but not near enough. He really had no control over the situation and Dean was never comfortable relinquishing control.

"Dean," Sam's voice shattered the fog.

The older hunter's eyes snapped open at the relieved sound of his brother's voice. "Sammy," he barked the name pushing himself up from the bed. Dean ducked his head sharply as blackness swam over his vision and he listed to one side suddenly feeling separated from his body.

"Woah!" he heard Sam call arms reaching out to catch him.

Drawing in a few steadying breaths Dean attempted to shake the sense of vertigo that was still clinging to him, not comfortable showing any amount of weakness in their present situation.

"What did you give him?" Sam's voice resonated into Dean's ear and realized that he was leaning heavily against his brother's chest.

"I'm alright," he tried to reassure, making a conscious effort to open his eyes and support himself. When his vision cleared Dean saw a pretty doctor standing next to his brother. There was concern in her eyes, which for some reason Dean hadn't been expecting.

"Sorry," she apologized with a tiny smile, "It's a rather strong sedative, needs to be to keep the Gou'ald down." The last sounded more to herself as she reached into the breast pocket of her lab coat and removed a penlight.

Dean pushed himself off of Sam, hazel eyes sweeping quickly over the room, for the first time taking note of the guards standing by the door. They didn't appear overly concerned that one of their people was standing so close to the Winchesters. Dean saw the situation for what it could be and it made him wonder why he hadn't woken up chained to the bed.

"Can you tell me your name?" the doctor asked her left hand taking hold of his chin while she flashed the focused beam of light across his eyes.

He squinted pulling away before casting a glance towards Sam, only to receive a shrug in reply. Dean knew that they already had his real name but that didn't make it feel any less wrong to give it himself. "Dean Winchester," he said forcing a smile, "And you are?"

"Dr. Janet Fraiser," she replied, eyes glancing between the two of them.

"Nice to meet you," he said with only a little sarcasm. "Could we have a minute?" he asked nodding towards Sam.

Dr. Fraiser blinked in surprise but offered him a brief smile before stepping away from the bed.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean hissed, watching the doctor as she picked up a phone at her desk.

Sam opened his mouth to reply but Dean over road him, "Seriously! What the hell is going on here?!"

"You were right," Sam began, keeping his voice down, "They thought we were aliens, Gou'ald actually."

Dean looked up at his brother, pulling a hand down his jaw. It just wasn't adding up. "Okay, so now what?" He looked down at himself, taking note of his bandaged wrist before his eyes swept over the room again.

The younger hunter blew out a breath, "Damned if I know."

"I mean, are we being held prisoner?" he asked hazel eyes studying the two soldiers by the door.

"I guess…" Sam said with a shrug, also glancing back towards the door. "I spoke with Colonel O'Neill."

"What do they know?" Dean asked scrubbing at his eyes.

"At first, just what was in the FBI file."

"But now?" he pressed with a frustrated sigh.

"Now, I'm pretty sure you're out of your minds," a familiar voice answered.

Dean blinked, completely surprised to see Colonel Jack O'Neill standing at the foot of the bed and he mentally cursed the sedative fogging his senses.

Forcing his eyes to focus, Dean took a minute to study the man and was taken by surprise when he felt a sense of painful nostalgia come over him. In several ways Jack reminded Dean sharply of his father; he knew it was the military influence, he just hadn't been prepared for it. He felt a lump form deep in his throat but quickly put it down to the drug still in his system and the fact that he was sitting in a hospital bed. The last place he'd ever seen his father alive.

He cleared his throat looking the man directly in the eyes. "You face down aliens pretending to be Egyptian gods, but ghosts you find hard to believe?" He still found the knowledge of the SGC hard to swallow. Aliens being a hoax had been so ingrained in him it was hard to imagine they actually existed and Dean considered himself rather open to new ideas.

Sam folded his arms across his chest with a snort, "Already had that conversation."

"But you still haven't told me how you hacked our system," Jack stated firmly, clearly indicating that was the only bit of information he was actually interested in.

Dean cast a quick glance towards his brother, noting the firm set of Sam's jaw. He knew they were in over their heads, that the knowledge Ash had hacked for them was actually way more trouble that it was worth. But he didn't want to dump that on Ash's doorstep, though the thought of the army unknowingly converging on Harvelle's made him smirk.

"I've got a better question," Dean began, eyes scanning the room a little more closely. "Where are my clothes?"

Jack didn't say anything immediately and Dean found himself staring the Colonel down. He got the distinct impression that Jack was purposefully taking the time to size him up and Dean didn't know quite what to make of it. Particularly, Dean remembered Detective Sheridan; that man had sized him up too but he hadn't seemed nearly so amused. There had been no mistaking the officer's opinion of Dean but with O'Neill he just wasn't so sure.

Finally Jack nodded his head, and Dean saw Dr. Fraiser moving back towards the bed, his clothes in hand. "Minus your weapons, of course," the Colonel said with a brief smile.

Dean offered the Colonel a sarcastic smile of his own as he took his clothes from the doctor and quickly began getting dressed. With his jeans on and belted, Dean reached back for the tie on the hospital gown stopping when he saw the flash of white bandage around his wrist again. "What happened while I was out?" he asked, directing the question more towards Sam, though he realized there was a strong possibility his brother wouldn't know.

"Apparently you broke the restraints during an MRI," Sam answered handing Dean his t-shirt.

"Huh," he grunted, the fuzzy memories flooding back to the surface as he pulled the light material down over his chest. "So what are we exactly? Prisoners? Guests?" he knew the second option wasn't likely, but the lack of cuffs was really confusing him.

"Why can't it be both?" Jack returned with a half smile and raised eyebrow.

Shrugging into his leather jacket Dean offered the Colonel an unimpressed look, "Alright, what happens now?"

"Now, you come with me," O'Neill turned to leave the room, and the two guards standing by the door shifted position clearly waiting for Sam and Dean to step out ahead of them.

"Take me to your leader?" Dean asked Sam softly.

"Hilarious," his brother replied voice dry.

Dean rolled his shoulders with a smirk and eyed the guard flanking him, before surveying the hall Jack was leading them through. He took note of the different painted lines running across the smooth cement floor and wondered where they'd lead him. "How far down do you think we are?" he asked glancing at Sam through the corner of his eye.

"Can't remember," Sam answered, "More than twenty-four levels I think."

Dean slowed his pace when he saw Jack come to a stop outside an elevator, "So not likely to escape…" he muttered.

O'Neill propped his foot against the opened elevator door, motioning with his free hand for Sam and Dean to step inside.

He did so but his mind flashed with possible ways of escape. They might have been outnumbered but in this closed space of the lift Dean knew he could use it to his advantage. The glowing lights on the panel told him that they were, in fact, twenty-one levels down. Dean knew even if he managed to subdue O'Neill and his men, the likelihood of he and Sam escaping NORAD was low to say the very least. The hunter sighed as he pressed his back against the wall and pulled his right hand down his jaw; he didn't like this one bit.

The elevator came to a quick stop six floors further down and Jack lead the way into a fair sized conference room. Dean was a little surprised to see glass windows this far below ground. What lay beyond them was hidden by a blast shield. Surprise struck Dean when he realized where they'd been taken; he remembered what he'd read about Stargate Command and was pretty sure they were at the heart of it.

Four chairs were already occupied. Dean recognized three of them and also knew the man seated at the head of the table was General Hammond, the man in control of the SGC. He caught sight of a familiar battered book lying opened in front of Daniel Jackson; the archeologist appeared completely engrossed by what he was reading. Sam's laptop was also there, with Samantha Carter typing away on it.

"General Hammond," Colonel O'Neill said, drawing all eyes to the end of the table. "Dean and Samuel Winchester," Jack introduced, before moving to his own chair.

The General nodded his head curtly looking both of them up and down "Take a seat," he instructed with a strong Texan accent.

Dean cast a brief glance at his brother before taking the first empty chair, "Interesting reading?" Dean asked, catching Dr. Jackson's eye as he briefly glanced up from John's journal.

"It seems like something of an obsession," Daniel commented flipping back a page.

"You watch your wife get taken by evil and tell me you wouldn't be a little obsessed too." He had to fight the urge to reach across the table and pull the book to him; it was a piece of his father and not something Dean liked to see in the hands of a stranger.

Dr. Jackson's head came up sharply, a fierce light in his pale blue eyes as he stared at Dean. The hunter thought he might have struck a nerve and was about to press for something more when the General cleared his throat.

"Gentlemen," Hammond's voice broke their stare.

"Well, that's a nice change," Dean commented to Sam before looking directly at the older man.

Hammond didn't appear impressed, "I don't think I have to tell you, you've stepped into a world of trouble."

"Actually, that's kind of par for the course," Dean tossed back, using sarcasm as he always did in these uncontrollable situations.

"How far has this information gone?" he continued pointing to Sam's laptop

The younger hunter leaned against the table catching Dean's eye with a silent '_let me handle this one._' "No further than that computer," Sam answered smoothly.

"And you expect us to believe that?" O'Neill returned immediately, his skepticism evident.

Dean felt his frustration rise. "If you're not going to, then why ask the question?" he threw back.

Captain Carter sat a little straighter in her chair, "Because we know you couldn't have obtained the information on your own." There was no hesitation to her words, no chance of doubt as she looked down the table locking eyes with Dean. "The breech happened at 16:00 hours, and you two were just leaving the University of the Rockies at that time," she informed before glancing towards the General.

Swiveling his chair towards Sam, Dean considered their limited options, based on what he already knew from what Sam had told him. Ash wasn't about to do anything other than delete the information he'd hacked for them. Hindsight being what it was, doing the same looked to Dean to be the smartest move they could have made. Too late for that.

"I'm telling you, the information we have is only on that computer," Sam stated honestly. "When we saw you at the house we wanted to know what the military would be doing getting involved in demonic killings."

"By the way, you might want to work on your cover story," Dean put in, turning back towards the head of the table. "It's the reason why we pushed deeper." He bit down on a yelp of pain as Sam's heel slammed down on his foot and sat a little straighter in his chair.

"Son, this is no laughing matter," Hammond boomed, leaning his folded hands on the tabletop. "You've uncovered State secrets a good portion of the government isn't even aware of. Do you realize how serious this is?"

Dean nodded his head once, glancing exaggeratedly around the room, "Kind of hard to miss."

"Dude," Sam hissed in warning.

"If you don't want to cooperate that's fine," O'Neill said easily. "We'll find out who you're working with." He received a firm nod of agreement from Captain Carter, as she continued working on Sam's laptop.

"We aren't working with anyone," Sam assured, but there was no reason for any of them to believe a word they said.

"And we're not reporters trying to uncover the SGC," Dean put in quickly. "We're hunters trying to put an end to the killings." He seriously doubted there was anything he could say right now that would help them but he had to try.

General Hammond leaned back in his chair, his expression hard to read as he studied both Sam and Dean. "Hunters," he said the word with a slight nod of his head, "of the supernatural."

"You going to tell me some human shredded those poor bastards?" Dean scoffed, unable to believe men in this job could be so skeptical of the supernatural, though he supposed the same could be said for him.

"You're going to tell me it was a _demon,_" the Colonel returned, tone mimicking Dean's.

"Well, it could be," Daniel spoke up slowly, his attention still appearing more focused on the journal than the rest of the room. "Think of it as a matter of perception: if you didn't know the Gou'ald were aliens you'd probably consider them to be demons."

"Not everything is an alien," Dean said with a dry laugh.

"You learn to speak in terms he'll accept," the archeologist returned with a shrug.

"Alright," O'Neill snapped, "What proof do you have that a 'demon' is what we're dealing with?"

"Autopsy reports don't lie," Sam pointed out calmly. "How do you explain the sulfur?"

"I suppose if you wanted to be very literal, this creature would be leaving traces of Hell on its victims," Daniel mused.

"Give the man a cigar," Dean said as he shifted to the edge of his seat, "Everything supernatural leaves some sort of trace behind, sulfur, EMF, hot spots. If you know what you're looking for you can track them."

"As fascinating as all of this is," Hammond drawled, effectively drawing all eyes back to him. "This is not my main concern; I have a responsibility to maintain the security of this facility."

Dean rubbed his right hand across his jaw, "Translation, we're your prisoners."

"You will be detained here, until such time as we've decided what to do with you," the General agreed, getting to his feet.

"Of course your cooperation would go a long way," Captain Carter pointed out.

"Right," Dean breathed, getting to his feet, "Somehow I don't think anything we say is really going to make that big of a difference."

"Perhaps that's just lack of imagination on your part," O'Neill quipped, slapping his palms together as he stood.

Dean shook his head, fists clenching at his sides. He wanted to say more, to point out just how hypocritical that statement was coming from the Colonel. But his comment was cut off by the guards returning to the room, guns held easily but their stances were cautious as they waited for their orders.

"Take them back to the holding cell," Jack instructed before turning back to the table, studying the laptop screen over Carter's shoulder.

"Yes, Sir," the man closest to Dean said before stepping aside. "This way," he said firmly.

They were met outside of the briefing room by two more armed soldiers; clearly O'Neill wasn't taking any chances. Dean did his best to keep track of the halls they passed through, knowing if they did chance an escape they'd need to know where to go. It didn't help that just about all the halls looked the same.

Stepping inside the small room, Dean glanced over his surroundings without much interest and listened to the door lock securely behind them. "Got any bright ideas?" he asked scrubbing his left hand across his short hair.

"Not really our move to make," Sam responded with a sigh dropping down on the bunk bed.

"What do you make of O'Neill?" he switched topics, hopping up onto the table across from his brother.

"Unpredictable."

"That's an understatement," Dean gripped the edge of the table, rolling his shoulders. "How the hell did he even get this job?"

---SPN/SG-1---

Jack folded his arms across his chest and settled his weight back on his left leg as he watched the monitor in front of him. They knew they were being watched, Dean had spotted the camera the moment he stepped inside the room, so he wasn't expecting anything of value to come from this.

"_That's an understatement_," Dean replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, "_How the hell did he even get this job?_"

Sam leaned back on the bed his face slipping out of view, "_You forgetting he's military?_"

Jack's lips twitched.

"_I would have thought you'd need a little imagination to get a job like that_," the comment was pointed and Dean turned his head a fraction glancing towards the camera.

The speakers crackled suddenly, the image jumping rapidly before settling again, "What the…" Jack muttered as it happened again.

---SPN/SG-1---

The lights flickered sharply above Dean's head and the hunter straightened, eyes darting to Sam who was now perched on the edge of the bed.

As the lights hissed and sparked again, Dean got to his feet, "What are the chances they haven't paid their electrical bill?"

"Is it the demon?" Sam asked rhetorically, getting up from the bed.

A large shadow across the far wall shifted: it was subtle enough to write off as a trick of the eyes, if you didn't know better. "I'd have to say yes," Dean muttered, moving to put himself between the creature and his brother.

"We have to get out of here," Sam said urgently.

"Try pounding on the door," Dean suggested, as the lights went out again.

A loud shriek penetrated the darkness before the lights flooded the room again and Dean found himself staring at the demon's corporeal form. Even the lights weren't enough to overcome the shadow but Dean didn't need to see what it looked like to be all too aware of the sharp claws swinging towards him.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	7. Chapter 7

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: I know most of you probably think cliffhangers are evil, but they really do help me with writing the following chapter. When I end with a cliffy I know exactly how the next chapter is going to start, and from there the rest flows relatively easily. However remove the cliffhanger and it can be difficult to decide where to start. Which is the problem I've run into right now with chapter 8. I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough, I'm attempt to clear my slate so I can focus more on The Same Coin. I hope you enjoy!

I'm dedicating this chapter to Kim you rock my world!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 7**

The picture on screen sputtered and jumped, blurring out before returning to sharp focus. Static crackled over the speakers but Jack could still make out what Sam and Dean were saying.

"_What are the chances they haven't paid their electrical bill?_" Dean's sarcasm. As irritating as it could be, Jack found he could appreciate on some level, though it made getting a read on the kid difficult.

"_Is it the demon?_" Sam asked warily.

Jack rolled his eyes. He'd seen much in his life, far more than the average man but he hadn't witnessed anything concerning the 'afterlife' that couldn't be explained away. For Charlie's sake he secretly hoped it was better than here but that didn't change the fact that Jack preferred to deal with hard evidence. There was no use denying what was right in front of you.

Peering at the screen, Jack could see the Winchesters were staring intently at the back wall of their room, like they were expecting something to happen.

"_I'd have to say yes,_" Dean muttered as he moved to put himself in front of his brother.

Sam's urgent words came through the static loud and clear, "_We have to get out of here._"

-_What is this? Some sort of escape attempt?_- Jack wondered silently. As cautious as he was, he hadn't honestly expected they'd try anything. The Winchesters both seemed to understand the gravity of their situation, even if they were refusing to take it seriously.

"_Try pounding on the door_," Dean said as the lights in their room went out again and the recording image jumped violently.

When the image settled again, Jack could see a darkly shadowed creature that hadn't been there just seconds before. "Teal'c," O'Neill called sharply.

"What is it, O'Neill?" the large Jaffa asked solemnly, coming to stand behind the Colonel.

"You ever see anything like that?" he asked, pointing at the screen.

Teal'c leaned a little closer to the monitor one eyebrow raised, "I have not."

"_Dean!_" Sam's voice was panicked.

"We need weapons," he said, heading from the room, quickly making his way towards the secondary armory.

---SPN/SG-1---

"Dean!"

"Stay back!" he barked, hearing Sam pound on the metal door.

Not taking his eyes off the demon, Dean reached for his belt buckle, knowing full well the iron knife he'd welded to it would do little to stop the creature's advances. The blackness appeared to ripple a second before it lunged for Dean's throat. Jumping back, Dean stuck the creature's arm with the tip of his knife, still a little surprised it actually connected with something solid.

"Open the fucking door!" Sam shouted urgently, but Dean barely heard him over the demon's shrieks of rage.

Glancing down at the knife protruding from between his index and middle finger, Dean realized he'd only succeeded in making the demon madder. It lashed out at him faster than his eye could follow; pain erupted across Dean's left shoulder as he fell back from the force of the blow.

"Dean!" he heard Sam shout again.

The demon was on top of the hunter before his blood had even begun to flow freely down his arm. Dean stabbed with the knife, trying but failing to bite down on a cry of pain as the creature dug into his chest.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica," Sam's voice rose up over the roar in Dean's ears, the Latin flowing from his tongue with practiced ease. "Ergo draco maledicte et section."

-_That's not going to work Sam_- Dean vaguely thought as he fought to remain conscious, the iron knife falling from numb fingers as his vision blurred.

"Ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica."

The demon shrieked in pain, pulling back sharply, the scent of blood and sulfur overwhelming the air.

"Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias servire libertáte, te rogámus, audi nos!"

"Dean!" Sam was at his side, hands pressing against his shoulder and chest before the older Winchester's mind even had a chance to realize the demon had vanished. "Hang on!"

Looking up at his brother, Dean felt his lips twist in a painful smirk, "I can't believe that worked."

Sam reached behind his brother, tearing the blanket from the bottom bunk, "Not a permanent fix, unfortunately." Sam swallowed hard as he tired to staunch the flow of blood with the balled up sheets. Glancing over his shoulder, he still couldn't believe no one had answered his calls for help.

"Still…" Dean said, drawing in a shallow breath, "Good thinking."

"Same to you, how long have you had that?" he asked, jutting his chin towards the small knife, in an attempt to keep Dean alert and talking.

Dean smirked again, his face pale in the yellow light. "Since Milwaukee, not the first place they look for a weapon."

An alarm sounded, the piercing noise warning of danger mere seconds before the door behind them finally burst open. "What the hell happened?" O'Neill demanded, followed into the room by Teal'c.

"Help me stop the bleeding!" Sam snapped, not taking his eyes off his brother.

The Colonel dropped to his knees on the other side of Dean. "Get Dr. Fraiser," he ordered and the Jaffa nodded once, disappearing out of the room.

Dean reached out a hand, trying to grip his brother's arm to assure him that he wasn't going anywhere; blood slicked his fingers, making it impossible to keep hold. "Looks worse than it is," he said with a forced smile.

"You're not the one looking at it," Sam countered, voice tight as he pressed harder on Dean's left shoulder.

He looked down at himself, trying to gage the extent of the damage but he couldn't make out anything beyond the crumpled and bloodied blankets Sam was pressing against him. There was pain, of course; it burned indiscriminately across his chest and shoulder spreading up his neck, leaving him feeling lightheaded.

"What's with all the noise?" Dean asked, turning his head just enough that he could better see the Colonel's face.

"The base is in lockdown," O'Neil answered, slowly pulling away the wadded sheet to get a glimpse of the damage.

Sam was already shaking his head. "That's not going to do you any good."

"What the hell was that?" the Colonel demanded, intense eyes locking with Dean's before moving onto Sam's.

"You need to see to believe?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Congratulations," Dean said, fighting to keep his voice level as he looked the Colonel in the eyes, "You just saw your first demon."

The Colonel's expression darkened. "That's what killed two of my men?"

Dean exchanged a brief look with Sam; at least that explained why no one had answered their calls for help. "Yes," the younger hunter answered bluntly. "And you're lockdown isn't going to trap it."

"Nothing's ever that easy…" Dean said, sucking in a sharp breath. "You think we pissed it off the other night?" he asked his brother, wincing as he tried to shift position.

"Just hold still," Sam ordered, worry making his voice tight.

Dean bit down on the inside of his lip to keep himself from crying out in pain as O'Neill pressed his makeshift bandage tighter against Dean's chest. He listened over the drumming of his own heart, hearing the sound of boots pounding down the hall seconds before a flood of people in white coats rush into the room.

"Colonel," Dr. Fraiser exclaimed, dropping to her knees as Jack's side. "Let me take a look," she bade gently, gloved hands already reaching for the material in O'Neill's bloodied hands.

"I need you to keep breathing," the doctor instructed, her attention dashing from the wound to Dean's face and back again. "Nice and easy," she encouraged.

"I didn't stop," he contended, voice rough.

Sam's hand on his shoulder was a grounding presence through the burning pain. "You were holding your breath," his brother pointed out, lips twitching up into a tight smile.

"Bring in a gurney," Dr. Fraiser ordered sharply. She shifted to check Dean's shoulder, now speaking softly as though to herself. "Multiple lacerations and you've lost a fair amount of blood. And what is that smell?"

"Sulfur," Dean said through grit teeth, feeling the raw skin on his shoulder pull sharply his blood already having begun to clot with the ruined sheet.

"Just relax," she said as a gurney was wheeled into the room and promptly lowered, "I'll have you patched up in no time."

Dean gripped Sam's forearm with his right hand. "Do you think it'll attack again?" He knew Sam wouldn't be able to say for sure.

"We haven't even been able to establish how it's choosing its victims," Sam replied, tone frustrated as he helped Dean onto the gurney.

"Well start with that," he said, fighting to keep Sam in his sight when other medical personal began to crowd in around him. "We must have missed something."

Sam moved to follow after his brother but Jack's hand on his shoulder brought him to an immediate halt. He shrugged away from the unwanted touch, turning to face the Colonel. "I need to go with him, he's not safe."

"Your brother will be fine, the halls are crawling with soldiers right now," O'Neill returned, nodding towards the door where Teal'c was patiently standing.

"These soldiers can't fight a demon," Sam said, drawing in a breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart; adrenaline from the attack still coursing through his veins.

Jack took a step forward. "Why not?" he asked simply, though his tone was anything but.

Sam released a frustrated breath. "You might as well flick rubber bands at it, bullets can't hurt it."

"But this can?" Jack returned skeptically, drawing Dean's makeshift knife from his pocket.

The hunter blinked in surprise; he had been too occupied with Dean to notice O'Neill pick up the weapon. He pointed at it, brown eyes taking note of the blood slowly drying on his hands and Jack's. It made his stomach lurch and he shut his eyes for a brief moment before meeting the Colonel's. "That's wrought iron."

"Clever design, hiding it in the belt," O'Neill commented, flashing the weapon towards the Jaffa. "Don't you agree?"

Teal'c nodded once. "Indeed."

"So why does iron work?" he asked, attention quickly fixing back on Sam.

Sam moved to pull a frustrated hand through his hair before the sight of Dean's blood stopped him. "It works for the same reason graveyards are often fenced in with iron and people used to hang a horseshoe on their doors to keep out evil spirits."

"And that reason would be?"

"Alright," Sam sighed, forcing his thoughts to a line in the clearest rout. "Spirits manifest using electromagnetic energy, that's why we can use EMF to detect them," he explained, not caring for the looks Jack was shooting towards Teal'c. "Iron is an electrical conductor so if you strike a spirit, ghost, or demon with a grounded piece of iron, it gives the electricity a clear path to ground draining the spirit. At least temporarily."

Jack tested the edge of the knife, appearing to consider Sam's words. "I'm not hearing anything in there on how to kill it."

"I'm not really worried about killing it right now," Sam growled, eyes darting over to the door, wanting to just push past the silent Jaffa and find Dean. "Just making sure it doesn't attack Dean again."

"And you'd do that how?" The sarcastic tone to the Colonel's voice told Sam he wasn't happy being the one asking the questions.

---SPN/SG-1---

Dean lay on the hospital bed, a great overhead light glaring down at his exposed chest while he watched Dr. Fraiser prepare the supplies needed to stitch the gashes on his shoulder and chest. Green eyes warily watched as the doctor prepared a syringe, drawing clear liquid from a vial Dean couldn't quite see.

"What's that?" he asked, voice rough from the pain.

She offered him a smile, hands still working as she spoke. "I'm going to give you morphine for the pain." Her gloved index finger flicked the edge of the needle forcing the air out of the tip with a slight spray of the drug.

Dean's body responded quickly, a surge of adrenaline fighting against the pain. His head reached for the IV line that had been inserted in the back of his right hand not long ago, his thumb clamping securely over the port. "No thanks," he said through grit teeth.

One of the nursing staff reached across the left side of the bed, taking a firm hold of his wrist in an attempt to lay him back. "You're clearly in a lot of pain," Fraiser tried to reason.

"I need to keep a clear head," he said, eyes searching the edges of the room. There hadn't been any signs of the demon since the attack, the lights hadn't even sflickered, but he was still wary and not interested in being doped up and defenseless.

Dr. Fraiser didn't look the least bit pleased. "Well, I'll need to give you something."

He nodded in agreement, not against easing the burning pain even just a little. "You got Tylenol with codeine?" he asked with a hopeful smile.

Janet offered him an understanding smile, dropping a hand briefly on Dean's shoulder. "Alright, just relax I'll go get some."

Dean released a breath and let himself relax back against the stiff sheets, his eyes falling closed for a brief minute. The sound of the door opening brought his attention back but he relaxed immediately when he saw it was Sammy.

"Dean." His brother looked relieved as he was followed into the room by Jack and Teal'c.

"Hey Sammy, what took you so long?"

Sam tossed a quick look back over his shoulder. "Had to explain a few things first."

"Like did you know salt is actually a weapon?" O'Neill asked looking towards Dr. Fraiser as he shook a salt shaker despairingly.

"No, I didn't," she said with an unsure halfhearted smile as she stepped back over to Dean's side with another syringe in hand. She inserted it quickly into the IV port and injected the clear liquid.

The younger Winchester rolled his eyes as O'Neill's sarcasm but didn't rise to the bait. "Is he going to be alright?" Sam asked, intense gaze honing in on the doctor.

Janet offered Sam a true smile. "We got the bleeding under control and now just need some stitches. He should be just fine."

"Good," Sam breathed an obvious sigh of relief before his brown eyes found Dean's. "I don't think the demon's here anymore, but just to be safe…"

"You'll make a salt line," Dean nodded in understanding, feeling the pain in his chest and shoulder lessen a little as Janet leaned over him, checking beneath the gauze.

"You're actually serious, Colonel?" she asked in surprise, looking down the length of the bed.

Dean followed her line of sight, seeing Sam kneel in the doorway. "I'm not," Jack said suddenly, "but he is. Kid seems to know what he's talking about."

The Colonel didn't sound all that pleased but Dean was at least relieved to see he was listening to Sam. "He'd better," Dean agreed, "he was trained by the best." His eyes passed over O'Neill, moving onto Teal'c. The Jaffa at least looked curious about what Sammy was doing.

Dr. Fraiser drew his attention back with a hand on his shoulder. There was an assistant standing on the opposite side of the bed, a small table draped in a blue cloth within easy reach. "Ready to get this over with?" she asked, pointing the tip of a small syringe down towards the gashes on his chest.

He nodded once, focusing his eyes on the pipe lined ceiling.

---SPN/SG-1---

Samantha Carter came to a stop just inside Daniel's office, for a moment stunned by the array of weapons, relics, and things she didn't even have a name for laid out on his tables. "What's all this?" she asked, drawing the archeologist attention from the battered journal he appeared to be referencing as he studied a talisman.

"Oh," he said, looking up in surprise. "This is the contents of a hidden compartment in the Winchester's car."

"Impressive." She stepped up to the table and picked up a double barrel sawed off shotgun.

"Mhmm," he agreed absently, putting the talisman aside in favor of a knife that looked like it had been etched with a pentagram.

"Do you know what any of this is for?" she asked, picking up one of the loose shotgun rounds. It was far lighter than it should have been and holding it up to the light she couldn't see a shot inside.

"Well, according to this journal," Daniel began, adjusting his glasses as he looked up at her, "these are weapons and means of protection for various supernatural creatures. Those," he said pointed to the shotgun shell, "are rock salt rounds."

"Rock salt?" Sam repeated dubiously. "Doesn't sound very deadly."

"Well, it isn't, not to humans at least. Some police forces actually use it in riot situations to disperse crowds," Daniel explained rather excitedly. "In this case, salt is used as a symbol of purity against the evil. It seems like it works against many forms of 'evil,' probably because for thousands of year's salt was used as a purifying agent, something to preserve the food, and such." He continued looking back down at the journal.

Sam opened a box as she listened, finding the inside to be lined with what looked like silver bullets.

"Turns out salt isn't only used as a weapon but for defense too. Making a ring of salt or lining the entrances to the room makes it impossible for a spirit to cross over."

"Does it say why?" she asked, tipping a clear bottle so the light caught on the strange pattern. She realized it was a hollow statue of the Virgin Mary.

"I did some research," he confirmed. "There's some old lore that states a demon cannot cross the line without counting each grain of salt and since that's an impossible task…" he trailed off, folding his arms across his chest.

She took a step back, sweeping her eyes over everything again. "Well, this is certainly an impressive collection to have if what they're hunting isn't real."

"Did you see the video feed from their cell?" the archeologist asked, stepping over to one of his computer monitors.

Samantha followed, watching the image jump and sputter before the black shadow appeared. "Does kind of make it hard to deny, doesn't it?"

He nodded once. "Where are you on tracking down their accomplice?" he asked suddenly.

"No closer," she admitted with a sigh. "Dean's cell phone records show several calls from a phone listed under the name Ash but, no surprise, the name and the cell are both dead ends. Whoever he is, he's good."

"Do you think they're telling the truth about the information?"

Sam rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. "I hope so."

Thanks for Reading

Morganeth Taren'drel


	8. Chapter 8

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: Not much to say this time around other than, thank you for all your support! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks to The Cleric 007 for editing this chapter for me.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 8**

"So," Jack drawled, looking from the thick line of salt Sam had finished stretching across the threshold to the kid himself. "Now what?"

He was still reluctant to swallow everything the Winchesters had been telling him but there was no denying that the attack had been real; Dean's blood was real. Taylor and Smith had died without a fight and that told O'Neill they needed to get a handle on this.

"Can I have access to my laptop?" Sam asked, straightening up, his intense gaze landing solidly on his brother as Dr. Fraiser worked at stitching one of the gashes along his chest.

Jack considered the request for a moment but couldn't see that there was anything Sam could do with someone standing over his shoulder. With the attack on the base, Jack knew they needed to use any recourse they could and. whether he liked the explanation or not. Sam was attempting to offer answers.

"What are you planning to do?" he asked, drawing Sam's full attention.

"If we want to track the demon's movements we need to know how it's picking the victims," Sam explained and the Colonel didn't miss the purposeful use of the word '_we_'.

He nodded once, directing Sam to walk ahead of him out of the infirmary. "Carter should still have your computer."

The young man's eyes strayed back over to his brother and he was clearly hesitant to leave. "Get to work Sammy," Dean barked, head rising up from the pillow so he could shoot his brother a meaningful look.

Jack watched a rueful smile cross Sam's face, the dimple that showed making him look years younger, before he stepped over the salt line and back into the hall. Together they made their way back to the elevator. Jack selected the eighteenth level where he was pretty sure Captain Cater and Daniel had gathered to continue their research into the Winchesters.

"You still think we're crazy," Sam spoke up after a moment, his tone making it a statement of fact rather than a question.

The Colonel turned his head enough to regard the younger man. "Uh yeah," he replied easily. "But I get the distinct impression you're used to it."

Again there was a flash of a smile. "Yeah, pretty much."

The elevator came to an abrupt stop and Jack led the way to Daniel's office. "Captain Carter," he said with a nod as he walked into the cluttered room.

"Colonel," she replied as she looked up from the laptop, fingers poised over the keys.

Daniel stood by a table near the back of the room, blue eyes locked intently on an old book even as his hands flipped the pages of another, absently looking for something else. Jack couldn't deny his first reaction on seeing what was in the Impala's hidden compartment; there had been a little bit of awe. At a glance it looked like Daniel had organized it into specific groups, though what he based that on Jack had no idea.

He drew his attention back to the taller man standing behind him. "Samuel here," he began poking a thumb in the kid's direction.

"Just Sam's fine."

Jack's eyes passed between Winchester and Carter. "Really, won't that make things interesting."

Samantha smirked a little at that but extended her hand a moment later. "Is your brother going to be alright?"

"Yeah, should be," he replied, shaking her hand.

The Colonel smiled indulgingly as he slapped his hands together. "Anyway, Sam's going to help try and pin down the common link with the victims."

Carter looked to him and Jack recognized that look; a silent question of '_Are you sure?_'

"What do you have on the last victim?" Sam asked, attention turning to his computer.

"Wouldn't that be Dean?" O'Neill asked with a raised brow.

"Possibly," he answered. "But it won't do much good looking into him, I know everything there is and I still don't see a connection."

The Captain reached for a stack of papers on the counter to her right, flipping through a couple of pages before she found the name she was searching for. "Tor Eckhart was the last victim."

"Let me know what you find," Jack said, stepping across the room to the archeologist.

"Jack," Daniel looked up when O'Neill leaned both his hands against the surface of the table. "The sheer number of resources they've gathered for this 'job'…" he trailed off looking back down at the books. "It's amazing," he passed his hand over the weapons and knickknacks. "They've covered just about every culture and religion."

"What about the artifact?" Jack asked, drawing Daniel's eyes back to him.

"Which one?" he returned, glancing confusedly around the cluttered room.

Jack sighed. "The one you believe is linked to the deaths," he clarified patiently. "Is it on the base yet?"

"Oh," he straightened his glasses. "No, not yet."

"Well, what's taking so long?"

"Well," Daniel began, drawing the word out a little, "apparently they're not interested in handing over something they uncovered, at least not without some sort of court order."

The Colonel rolled his eyes. "We don't have time for a court order."

"Why don't you just go in and take it?" Sam asked from across the room. He was turned in his chair as though listening to their conversation with half an ear.

"Let me guess," Jack said with a raised finger. "That's what you and Dean would do."

He shrugged, the corners of his lips tilting upwards. "It usually takes less time to simply destroy than explain to people."

Jack nodded, knowing there was no denying that. Perhaps they would have to go in and take it for themselves. If the artifact was in fact connected to the demon then it was a danger to the populations. He shook his head in disbelief, wondering when he'd become so willing to consider the demon a reality.

---SPN/SG-1---

Dean pushed himself up on the bed, keeping his left arm held tightly against his stomach as he slid his legs over the edge of the mattress. His vision flashed black for a second at the sudden change from horizontal to vertical and he felt the room sway slightly; a by product of the medications but that too passed quickly. Dr. Fraiser had told him to rest when she'd finished bandaging his chest and shoulder; but there was too much to do for that.

The painkillers were still doing their job, though he couldn't move his left arm much without feeling the fresh stitches pull. Still he managed to pull the IV from the back of his hand; his timing though wasn't so perfect as Janet was making her way back to him.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, pressing a small square of gauze to the back of his bleeding hand.

Dean offered her his best smile, noting the way her eyes brighten ever so slightly. "I need to help my brother," he said, pulling his hand back.

"You should be resting," she countered. "The last thing I want is for you to tear any of those stitches."

"Not the first time I've been sewn up," he said, glancing down at the white bandages. "I know the drill."

"I noticed," she said, eyeing him up and down. "It wasn't all done by professionals," she sounded positive as her brown eyes returned to his.

Dean looked down at himself, seeing the lights of the infirmary glint subtly off the old scars that continued to fade on his exposed flesh. He remembered the hunts behind most of them, right down to the state and motel he'd been patched up in. "Job doesn't have health insurance," he said simply, shrugging his right shoulder.

"Can I ask you something?" she requested after a moment of awkward silence.

He raised an eyebrow giving silent permission.

"How did you get into this life?"

Dean cleared his throat sharply. "Oh that," he hedged on answering but knew with his dad's journal in their hands some of them already knew. "I was raised into hunting. A demon killed my mom when I was four, we've been hunting the thing ever since."

"But your dad wasn't raised to be a hunter, was he?" she asked somewhat hesitantly.

"Everyone gets their start somewhere." Dean glanced towards the door when he heard someone approaching, not at all surprised to see Jack step into the infirmary.

"How's the patient Doc?" he asked, shoving both hands into his pockets.

Janet turned away from Dean, her expression relaxing as she addressed the Colonel. "Other than a few scars, he should be just fine."

Pulling his right hand down his jaw, Dean cleared his throat none too subtly. "Don't supposed I could get my clothes, or at the very least a new shirt." There was some blood staining the waist of his jeans but he had too few pairs to discard them over that.

Jack looked to Dr. Fraiser, clearly waiting for her professional opinion.

"So long as he doesn't do anything strenuous and tear those stitches." She gave Dean a stern look but it ended with a flash of a smile. "Wait here, I'll get you a shirt."

Dean watched her leave the room, all the while feeling Jack's eyes studying him. "Feeling a little more open minded?" he asked, casually regarding the Colonel through the corner of one eye.

"Not really," O'Neill replied with a wry grin as he folded his arms across his chest.

Dr. Fraiser stepped back into the room carrying a black shirt in her left hand and a bottle of pills in her right. She dropped the shirt on his knee and held out the bottle for him to take. "For the pain, but go easy on them," she warned. "And you should eat something."

"That can be arranged," Jack assured.

"Thanks," Dean said, getting up from the bed and slipped the bottle into his front pocket, feeling his jeans slip a fraction down his hips. "Don't suppose I could get my belt buckle back," he tried, holding his breath while he worked to get the t-shirt on despite the stitches.

When he finally poked his head through the top, Dean saw Jack was holding his makeshift knife in his right hand. It took a moment for Dean to realize the iron was no longer attached to the stainless steel of the actual belt buckle which O'Neill was offering with his left hand.

"Clever design," he commented, turning the weapon over in his hand. "Did you get the idea from your dad? He was a former Marine right?"

Dean ground his teeth against the use of the word '_was._' He wasn't even used to speaking of his dad in the past tense; he didn't want to hear this stranger doing it. "No and yes," he answered bluntly, reattaching the buckle. Taking a few slow breaths, Dean remained standing by the bed, waiting for the worst of the pain to subside before he moved towards the door.

"Oh, one more thing Dean," Dr. Fraiser said, drawing them to a stop. She was standing in front of him when he turned and quickly slipped a white strap around his neck. Before he even had time to protest, Janet had his left arm comfortably settled in a sling.

He looked down at it in disgust but caught the sharp look she directed up at him. "Humor me; the less you move it the less likely you'll be back here bleeding again."

Suppressing a sigh, Dean just nodded his head and offered her a smile of thanks. He followed the Colonel from the room, adjusting the strap of the sling around his neck. They walked in silence to the elevator and Dean noticed that there weren't any other guards following them. He wondered if that, more than anything, was a sign that Jack was coming to believe them.

"So," Jack broke the silence, pressing the button to take them one floor down. "You said your brother was trained by the best, I'm assuming that's your dad?"

Dean regarded the man, his brow creasing in irritation. "Yeah," he finally answered, hoping his tone would send the message that this wasn't something he wanted to talk about.

"Who trained your dad?" O'Neill asked, clearly not caring.

The hunter came to an abrupt halt just inside the commissary. "Why?" he demanded.

Jack shrugged, obviously not put off by Dean's reaction. "Curiosity."

Dean shook his head, looking away from the Colonel and around the sparsely populated room. He didn't want to have to defend his dad against anymore attacks. Henricksen's accusations were clear as a bell in his head, right alongside Sam's; he wasn't interested in adding another to the list.

He took a seat at the nearest table, placing his back to the wall out of habit, and visually swept the room again, taking note of the exits. The other soldiers in the room didn't appear to pay him or Jack much mind, still engrossed in their conversations, laughter occasionally punctuating the low hum.

For a moment Jack's back turned and Dean's initial instinct was to bolt for one of the doors. They may have not been prisoners in the usual sense of the word but he didn't like being held any better when cuffs weren't involved. But Dean wasn't about to attempt an escape, not with Sam still in some unknown quarter of their base. So he stayed, even though he was fairly sure that the SGC would prove more of a hindrance than a help on this hunt. Having to stop every five minutes and explain everything usually was.

Despite that, Dean was still curious.

Jack came over to the table, carrying a tray in either hand. The one he put down in front of Dean contained a sandwich, bottle of water, and a small bag of plain chips. Dean reached for the water first, cracking it open and taking a few mouthfuls before putting it down and reaching into his pocket for the bottle of pills, shaking two into his hand and swallowed them. Jack was watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"It hasn't been that long, has it?" Jack said, leaning against the narrow table.

Dean shook his head, knowing that a year from now his dad's death would still be just as hard for him to deal with. He wondered sometimes if John hadn't given his life to bring his son back whether he might have been able to move on. But there was no way to know now.

"How old were you when you started hunting?" O'Neill asked, the majority of his attention moving to his tray.

Dean considered the question for a moment, trying to decide if he actually wanted to answer. He shrugged his right shoulder. "Guess it basically started the day my mom died."

'_Protect your brother!_' John's order had basically ended his childhood but Dean had managed to gather something from the ashes in raising Sammy.

Jack opened his mouth as if to ask a question but stopped, reaching for his sandwich instead. They ate in silence for a moment, Dean studying Jack, trying to get a read on him. But the Colonel was as hard to anticipate as John; Dean wondered if it was a military thing.

"Do you remember how old you were when he taught you how to fire a gun?" Jack asked suddenly, voice a little rougher than it had been a moment before.

"Young," Dean answered with a rueful smile. "I remember that much. I made my first sawed off when I was eleven."

The Colonel's eyes went wide.

Dean smirked. "A little crazy now that I think about it."

---SPN/SG-1---

Sam got up from the stool and stretched his arms above his head, fighting back a yawn. They'd been working for hours to pinpoint the connection between all the victims. He'd been right to assume he and Dean were an anomaly in the data; the one thing everyone else had in common was Native American heritage. It had been difficult to find because none of the victims had been born to any present day tribe. Most probably didn't even realize that there was Native American blood in their families.

Tor Eckhart had proved to be the key in it all: three generations back his family name had been Elkhart until it had been misspelled on a birth certificate. Sam had left the background check to Captain Carter, turning his attention to the almost forgotten video Dean had taken of the artifact. He and Daniel had been poring over the frustrating footage for a while now, trying without much success to decipher the one symbol Dean had managed to catch.

Sam felt his attention split as he worked, focusing primarily on the case but at the same time unable to stop himself from studying the people he was working with. If they weren't hunters, he and Dean rarely worked with anyone and never side by side like this. He found himself liking Daniel; the archeologist possessed such a vast range of knowledge and, unlike Jack, was far more open-minded about the supernatural. He'd been asking questions near constantly since they'd sat down at the back of the room. Everything from their methods of tracking demons to what was myth versus reality with the creatures they hunted.

Samantha Carter proved just as inquisitive, though her questions has strayed less towards the supernatural and more focused on hard facts. Logistically speaking, she wanted to know how everything worked: why silver killed a shapeshifter, how iron defused a spirit. What he took for granted as a means to an end she wanted to understand on a scientific level.

"I know I should know this," Daniel muttered to himself as he glanced back at the laptop screen before returning to flipping through the pages of an old book.

Sam considered the frozen image. They'd already reference every south-central tribe Daniel could think of without any luck. "Maybe we should be looking outside the US," he offered, reaching for his half filled mug of coffee.

Daniel straightened up from his hunched position. "It's possible…" he muttered to himself, pulling off his glasses to massage at his eyes.

"Is there anyway to search using the demon itself?" Captain Carter asked, coming over to them.

"Problem is, as many tribes and cultures as there are…" Daniel began replaying his glasses on his nose.

"There're just as many demonic creatures," Sam put in.

Carter eyed the two of them with a tiny smile, before shaking her head slightly. "Alright, so what about the artifact?" she reached across the desk, drawing the computer towards her. "If I can get it into my lab I should be able to at least figure out what it's made of." She studied the screen for several minutes. "That could at least give us a region to focus on."

"I'll make a couple of calls," Daniel said, stepping over to the phone. "So far the university is insisting they have sole rights to the artifact and whatever else they might uncover."

"They did seem awfully territorial when Dean and I were there," Sam commented, draining the last of his coffee.

"I'm not surprised," the archeologist said while dialing the phone. "It was only luck that they uncovered the site themselves. And the University of the Rockies isn't exactly the top archeological school…well, in fact, not even close. There are experts from all over the country attempting to gain control."

Sam pulled a hand through his hair before pushing himself up from the table, brown eyes sweeping the room for a clock. He'd been so engrossed in the research he was a little surprised to see it was well past noon.

"Alright!" The word was accompanied by the slap of Jack's hands as he strode into the somewhat crowded room. "What've you got?"

Sam's attention honed in on Dean, who trailed a half step behind. He looked alert and color had returned to his face since the last time Sam had seen him. His right hand was fiddling and readjusting the strap on his sling; Sam didn't see it lasting very much longer.

"Well?" Jack asked impatiently, his stance rolling onto the balls of his feet.

"We found the common denominator in all the victims, Sir," Captain Carter spoke up, verbally coming to attention even if her stance remained at ease. "They all had some Native American blood in their backgrounds."

Sam stepped around the two of them, coming to a stop by Dean at the door. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, Sammy," he said with a quick nod before leaning his good shoulder against the cement wall. "So we don't fit the bill," he stated bluntly, keeping his voice low eyes watching the room.

"No," Sam agreed, "It probably came after us 'cause we attacked it."

Dean released a breath. "So, no way to track its next victim. Are we any closer to naming the actual demon?"

"No," Sam said with a sigh of his own. "Dr. Jackson has crossed off several local tribes…" he trailed off.

Dean nodded in understanding. "Now what?" he asked, right hand pulling at the strap again.

Sam opened his mouth to reply when the PA system crackled to life.

"_SG-1 please report to the briefing room. Repeat: SG-1 to the briefing room._"

"Alright kids," Jack said, looking pointedly at Sam and Dean, "for now that'll include you two."

Jack lead the way out of Daniel's office and Sam found himself almost ushered along by the archeologist while Carter took up the rear. He'd noticed their guard escort had disappeared somewhere after the demonic attack. Although he supposed if one of the members of SG-1 hadn't been there a soldier surely would have been.

Sam lowered his head against the bright lights of the base, noticing that he'd suddenly become light sensitive, a pronounced ache growing behind his eyes. Massaging the bridge of his nose helped to ease the pain for a moment but it was continuing to build. He blinked, forcing himself to focus and when he did Sam noticed Dean was watching him like a hawk.

"You okay?" his brother asked quietly as they stepped inside the elevator.

"Yeah…" Sam mumbled in reply, drawing slow, calming breaths and trying to convince himself that this was just a simple headache that wasn't about to get much worse. He could lie to himself as much as he wanted; Sam knew exactly what this was. Wincing sharply the younger hunter bit down on a groan, chin dropping against his chest as a wave of pain exploded behind his tightly closed eyes.

"Sammy," Dean's voice had rose a fraction in his worry.

"What's the matter?" Carter's voice was equally concerned.

Sam swallowed heavily, forcing his brown eyes to open and saw for a brief moment four sets of eyes staring back at him. He tried to push himself away from the metal wall of the elevator when another wave pounded him back. Hands reached to grip either side of his head in a desperate attempt to hold his skull together; it felt like it was going to explode with the images that were being forced in.

Vaguely he was aware of Dean's arm gripping his shoulder, grounding him in reality. But that too began to fade as he felt his mind fall away sliding with not great ease into the body of another.

The world jerked and stuttered violently, sound screeching in and out of focus; colors faded to gray moments before the lights nearly blinded him.

"_Chloe!_" a panicked voice cried in alarm.

The vision panned left suddenly, seeing a woman running from a darkened room into the light.

"_Are you alright?_" she asked, hand reaching even as she turned her head back towards the other room. "_What's happening?_" she demanded, not receiving an answer to the first question.

"_I don't know,_" Chloe replied, her voice calmer than that of her mother.

The lights overhead flickered sharply, bathing them in light before showering them in darkness. Her mother tenses in the blackness but Chloe didn't seem quite so afraid.

"_C'mon_," she ordered suddenly, running from the house.

The night sky overhead was overcast, shrouding the street in darkness as a deep cold settled into the air. In a flash of light the street sign read Pine before it disappeared into the shadows again.

"_It's following us!_" her mother panicked, gripping her arm tightly.

"_It'll be okay_," she assured, turning to see her reflection in the window of a car. Chloe's long, dark hair framed a face dominated by almond shaped eyes. She stared directly at her reflection. "_Help me!_" her words were purposeful, speaking directly to Sam.

Her and her mother's screams were the last things Sam heard and the last thing he saw was their blood splashing across the window of the car.

Gasping for breath, Sam's arms shot out searching for something to steady himself, his knees trembling threatening to send him to the ground.

"I got you, Sammy," Dean's voice was the first thing Sam heard and he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

He sagged back against the wall swallowing hard, as the ache slowly passed but the memory remained. "I know who the next victim is."

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	9. Chapter 9

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: Ten days that's not too long to wait between updates. I wish I could promise it be ten or less for the next but I'm still mentally working out the details for the next chapter. I had to take a few liberties with dates from a couple of episodes of Supernatural I rather like the fact that the show often uses the date the episode airs as the date it happened, makes it easy for using specific dates. Enjoy!

I want to thank The Cleric 007 for the edit of this chapter!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 9**

"What the hell was that?" Jack demanded, standing with his shoulder pressed against the opened door of the elevator.

Dean ignored the question, his full attention on Sam who was struggling to orient himself. He cursed the damn sling holding his left arm tightly against his chest and would have moved to rip it off if his right arm hadn't been supporting Sam.

Sam groaned, giving his head a slight shake before forcing himself to straighten where he leaned heavily against the wall. Brown eyes flashed towards Dean, looking focused and alert. "I'm alright," he assured, shrugging Dean's hand away.

"What did you see?" Dean asked softly.

"I saw someone die," Sam returned bluntly with an unimpressed look.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I meant specifics."

Sam appeared to take a moment, drawing in a couple of calming breaths. "I think it was tonight…" he began.

"Excuse me?" Jack asked dubiously. "You '_saw_' tonight?" he exchanged a long pointed look with Samantha and Daniel.

"Great," Sam muttered so only Dean could hear. "As if he didn't already find us hard to believe."

"Not much we can do about that," Dean said, motioning Sam to move towards the door. There wasn't much point in them remaining in the elevator.

"Was that a seizure?" Captain Carter asked, expression showing concern.

"No," Sam told her quickly, straightening up to his full height. "Can we just forget about it for now?" his tone was more than a little pleading.

Jack didn't appear like he was ready to drop the subject at all but Carter stepped up beside him, "Sir, the General is waiting."

"Right," he drawled, continuing to stare at Sam as though seeing him for the first time.

Dean followed Sam out of the elevator, keeping a careful eye on his brother; it didn't matter to Dean that this wasn't Sam's first vision, nothing was going to make this okay. There was no denying the visions scared the hell out of him. There was no controlling them and that wasn't even taking into account that the visions meant there was something '_different_' about Sam. He tried not to consider the implications but Gordon Walker had made it all too clear for him.

Some hunters were going to view his brother as something evil that needed to be hunted.

Dean forced the thought away; he wasn't going to let that happen. John had given him a job and he intended to do it. He cast a quick glance at Sam's face, relieved to see some of the color had returned to the younger man's features.

The General was waiting for them in the briefing room, seated at the head of the table exactly where Dean had seen him only hours before. Teal'c stood off to one side, expression blank, hands clasped behind his back.

"Colonel?" Hammond questioned, as soon as Jack approached. "What can you tell me?"

"Well, General," O'Neill returned briskly, "there's been no further signs of the creature on base. Not that we'd be able to fight it, according to Sam," he thrust in thumb in the younger hunter's direction.

"Is that so?" the General sounded less than convinced.

"I'm only aware of one weapon that can kill a demon outright and it's not military issue," Dean tossed out. He hated to think of the colt and what it cost his family but there was no denying it would have made their lives a lot easier if they could figure out how it worked.

Hammond looked back to Jack. "What else?"

"Daniel seems to think some of what the Winchesters have been saying checks out, isn't that right?" he asked, looking to the archeologist.

"True," Daniel agreed, casting a brief glance towards Sam and Dean, his blue eyes lingering on the younger for a second longer. "At the very least they've put far too much effort into it if it weren't."

The General gestured that everyone should take their seats. "What do we know about the creature?"

"Demon," Dean said gruffly, putting himself between Sam and the rest of the room as he took a seat across from Daniel. His brother's expression had been distant since they'd come into the briefing room, no doubt replaying his vision again and again.

"How do we stop it?" Hammond asked; to his credit he was looking directly at Dean. "Will it attack again?"

Dean turned his chair slightly, forcing himself for the moment to stop fussing with the strap of the sling. "I can't say whether it will attack again or not," he told them honestly.

"Sir, I believe we've discovered the link between all the victims," Captain Carter spoke up, leaning her folded hands on the tabletop. "And if we're right the attack on the Winchesters was an anomaly most likely brought on when they attacked the '_creature_' the other night."

"And what is it?"

"Well sir," Samantha continued quickly, "all the victims shared a Native American background whether it was pure, one parent being a direct descendent of a tribe, or far more diluted, as thin a link as one-sixteenth."

Dean turned to regard his brother who was looking towards the head of the table but didn't appear to be seeing it. "What did you see?" he asked again, keeping his voice low.

"Two women, running from the demon," Sam replied just as quietly.

"And you think this is going to happen tonight?" he pressed. The time between Sam's visions and the actual event was never fixed; the last few had basically happened on top of each other. Dean knew that upset Sam more than having to witness the gruesome deaths. What was the point of it all if he couldn't at least try and stop it?

Sam's hands flexed on the surface of the table. "It was dark out." He closed his eyes for a moment clearly trying to remember. "I saw the street sign." His eyes flashed open.

"Well why now?" That question had been sounding at the back of Dean's mind since the vision had started. Nothing they'd seen so far even remotely pointed towards the Yellow Eyed Demon having anything to do with these demonic attacks. And Sam's visions had never happened without being related to Yellow Eyes. Dean told himself they had to be missing something; he didn't like the thought that Sam's powers were branching out.

Sam shook his head. "She spoke to me, Dean."

"What, the girl?" He had to fight to keep the conversation between them, his surprise almost getting the better of him.

"Her name's Chloe," Sam told him pointedly.

"Okay," he whispered, "what do you mean spoke to you?"

The younger Winchester shrugged his shoulders, appearing at a loss for words. "I got the feeling she knew I was there watching…" he trailed off helplessly. "I think she might be one of the psychic children," Sam muttered, looking down at his hands.

"I'm sorry," Daniel spoke up, one finger raised and pointing towards Sam. "Did you just say psychic?"

Dean sighed as the conversation at the other end of the table came to an abrupt halt and all eyes turned to them. "Doubt there's a way to phrase this that Jack will accept…" he hissed at Sam.

"I think I know who the next victim will be," Sam said honestly.

"How?" the General asked bluntly.

"Can we skip all that? Just go with a gut feeling?" Dean tried waving away the other question; he knew it was a long shot at best.

Jack wasn't about to disappoint. "Do I look like someone who subscribes to blind faith?" he asked incredulously.

Dean smirked, completely unimpressed but not in the least bit surprised. "No."

"So, care to try again?" the Colonel drawled, heavy gaze remaining fixed on the two of them.

"Are we just going to sit here and do nothing?" Sam demanded suddenly, the heat in his voice surprising Dean a little. "She is going to die, unless we stop it! And there's still time!"

"Son, who's going to die?" Hammond asked, appearing at a glance to be genuinely concerned.

Sam shook his head, frustration rolling off him. "Her name's Chloe, she lives in town on Pine Street or something."

"And you saw this?" Daniel asked, absently adjusting his glasses. "In what? A vision?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" Sam demanded bluntly.

"No," Jack returned lightly.

The younger Winchester slammed his palms against the table pushing his chair back sharply.

"Hey," Dean said softly, reaching across his body to grip Sam's arm with his left hand. "There's still time," he assured.

"General Hammond," Teal'c deep resonating voice was something of a surprise to Dean, the Jaffa spoke so rarely. "I believe Sam Winchester speaks the truth."

All eyes were on Teal'c now; he sat stoically, hands folded calmly in front of him.

"Oh you do?" Jack was the first to speak up skeptically. "You believe he's psychic?"

Teal'c raised one eyebrow. "I believe Sam Winchester believes it is so."

"You believe you're psychic?" Jack demanded, leaning one arm against the table as he swiveled his chair to face Sam. "What number am I thinking of?" he asked, pointing a finger towards his temple.

Sam groaned dropping his head into the palm of his right hand. "I can't read minds," he stressed angrily.

"Then in what way are you a psychic?" Daniel asked, sounding more curious than condescending.

Dean turned his full attention to Sam, silently indicating that he was leaving this entirely in his brother's hands. He'd berated Sam once for confiding in Ellen but, unlike at the Roadhouse where the hunters might view Sam as prey, all they had to face here was Jack's skepticism.

Sam was silent for several minutes, perhaps weighing his options though Dean didn't see that they had all that many. "About a year ago, I started getting these…visions," he swallowed hard. "Of people's deaths," he said finally, voice bitter.

"And you believe they're real?" Captain Carter asked, sounding confused more than anything.

"Saginaw, Michigan," Sam stated bluntly, his expression becoming guarded but Dean still recognized the hurt his brother was feeling at the memories, "February 7th, 2006: Jim Miller, Roger Miller, Max Miller. Guthrie, Oklahoma, October 27th, 2006: Dr. Jennings, Holly Beckett, Ansem Weems."

"Sam…" Dean spoke his name quietly, not at all surprised Sam was keeping a running list of the people he'd '_failed_' to save. He didn't think either Max or Ansem's names should have been on that list but wasn't shocked that Sam thought he was responsible.

"They're all dead," Sam ground out bitterly. "After I watched it happen."

"You saw it happen?" Daniel asked, blue gaze intense. "But you weren't able to stop it from happening?"

Dean shot the archeologist a glare. "No surprises people don't like to take advice from strangers."

"I don't always get so much warning before the attack is going to happen," Sam explained pointedly, his attention honing in on General Hammond. "Would it kill you to at least look into it?" he asked and Dean wished his brother didn't sound so desperate but he understood all too well.

All eyes turned to General Hammond, who was watching Sam intently. "Captain Carter, track down this girl," he instructed suddenly.

"Sir," she replied sharply, pushing back her chair.

"She's twenty-three years old, if that helps any," Sam was quick to offer.

"General, you're actually taking this seriously?" Jack scoffed, also pushing his chair away from the table.

"As Sam said, there's no harm in looking into this," Hammond answered calmly. "For the moment though I'd like Dr. Fraiser to take a look at you," he said looking pointedly at Sam.

Dean stiffened in his seat, "What are you expecting to find?" he demanded angrily.

"Dude," Sam said quietly. "It's okay, whatever it takes to save Chloe."

"Fine, but you're no one's lab rat," he muttered rather loudly.

"Teal'c would you accompany them to the infirmary," the General ordered as he got to his feet.

The Jaffa nodded his head as he got up from his chair. "Come, Dean and Sam Winchester," he said formally, stopping near the end of the table.

Dean looked at Sam with a raised eyebrow before following Teal'c from the room. It wasn't often that Dean was made to feel short but standing between his brother and the Jaffa he could forget for a moment that he was above average in height as well.

---SPN/SG-1---

"I understand. Thank you, Doctor," Hammond spoke into his phone as Jack stepping into the office.

"General, I'm really beginning to think these kids have a couple of screws loose," Jack said once the General had hung up the phone.

"I'll admit I find visions of the future a little hard to swallow," the General agreed, taking a seat behind his desk. "However he did seem genuinely concerned for this girl's safety."

"Or sending us running in a different direction," Jack groused as he glanced out the window to the briefing room.

"So if this '_demon_' turned out to be some form of alien, you'd be happier?"

Jack considered the question for a moment. "I know aliens exist; if there is an afterlife this isn't the one I'd have voted for." The Colonel shook his head, "Ghosts, demons, next thing they're going to tell me zombies are real."

"And if they are?" Hammond asked, clearly content to continue playing devil's advocate.

"Sir, I face what I can see. Not generally what people tell me they've seen," he replied bluntly.

Hammond rested his right hand on the surface of his desk, looking Jack directly in the eye. "Well, you've at least seen one of these demons," the General pointed out.

"Yeah," the word was clipped as Jack took a seat on the edge of a chair. "Sir, we had enough to worry about with the Gou'ald before Daniel opened this can of worms." Jack felt an almost uncontrollable urge to cuff the archeologist across the back of the head next time he saw him.

"What would you suggest?"

"I don't suppose dropping them in some out of the way corner of the world is an option," Jack joked, though at times he was sorely tempted.

"No, I don't think it is," the General agreed with a rueful shake of his head.

Jack shook his head slowly, feeling a little bemused at the entire situation. "Should this even still be our problem?" he asked, changing the subject slightly. "It's not like we don't have enough to deal with already."

"Who would you pass this off too?" Hammond asked. "The police? We may not be dealing with aliens but the local authorities are no better equipped to handle this than if we were."

"So continue working with the Winchesters, at least until this demon is dead," Jack clarified, moving to get up.

General Hammond nodded his head. "At least look into this girl. If she does in fact exist then we have an obligation to try and save her."

"If she's even at risk," Jack couldn't resist pointing out.

"Right," Hammond agreed, waving him away.

Walking out of the General's office, Jack made his way down the spiral stairs to the control room where her found Carter seated at a computer station, her attention divided between two screens. "What'd you got?" he asked, leaning his right arm across the top of one monitor.

Captain Carter glanced up with a tiny smile. "Age, first name, and street." Sam shook her head, appearing a little frustrated. "It's going to take me some time to track her down. But I did pull up the police reports on those victims Sam listed."

"And?" he asked curiously.

"All but two of them are listed as suicides," she replied, attention returning to the screen. "Of those two, Roger Miller was listed as a freak accident and Ansem Weems as self-defense."

"None of that proves Sam had visions of the deaths before they happened."

She nodded in agreement. "There's no way to even prove he's having visions of the future." Captain Carter turned in her seat. "Logically speaking, the chances of that happening--"

Jack held up a hand to cut off Sam's no doubt detailed explanation. "What's this?" he asked instead, pointing towards the second monitor where a window was flashing.

"This," Sam said, turning back to the screen, "ss a list of all the girls named Chloe born in 1983, just in the city of Cold Springs."

"And if she wasn't born here?" Jack asked with a crooked grin.

The Captain shuddered. "I did a nationwide search first. You don't even want to know how many hits I received." She began working her way though the list of names. "Sir, what are we supposed to do if we find this girl?"

"General Hammond wants us to look into it," he replied with a shrug.

A sudden smile broke out on Sam's face. "This could be the girl we're looking for…" she said, sounding a little excited. "Chloe Lynn Cole, born August 10th,1983. The only child of Tyler and Lynn Cole, who live on 248 West Pine Street."

"Alright," Jack said straightening up. "That sounds like our girl."

Sam nodded once. "This doesn't prove that Sam Winchester has visions of the future," she said adamantly.

"Dr. Fraiser's looking into it but I don't think she'll find anything conclusive either," Jack commented, pulling a hand through his short hair. Janet had already examined both Winchesters when they'd been brought in and hadn't found anything unusual. "As for the girl, General Hammond wants us to look into it. So long as this creature is out there killing people, it's our responsibility to stop it."

"Yes, sir."

---SPN/SG-1---

"Sam."

Janet was waiting for them when they arrived, one hand patting the bed she stood beside. "General Hammond called," she explained with a smile.

Sam moved somewhat reluctantly to take a seat in front of her, letting Janet take his wrist with her right hand. He wasn't nearly as okay with this as he'd let on back in the briefing room. But he'd wanted to keep Dean from saying anything they'd both regret and if this is what it was going to take to save Chloe's life he wasn't going to refuse. Too many people had died in recent months for Sam to take any risks now.

"How're you feeling?" she asked, reaching for the penlight in her coat pocket.

"Fine," he replied, casting a quick glance towards Dean who had taken a seat on the opposite bed near where Teal'c quietly stood watching.

She reached up with her left hand to steady his head before swiping the light across his vision. "Can you describe how the vision manifests?"

Sam winced at the brightness but managed to keep his head still. "Sudden severe headache," he replied with a shrug looking again to Dean. His brother was watching him like a hawk, the offensive sling resting beside him on the bed.

"Can you take off your over shirt?" she requested, slipping the light away before reaching for a blood pressure cuff.

He did as she asked, shrugging aside the button down shirt and allowing her to wrap the cuff around his right arm.

"Does this happen often?" she continued, watching her work.

"Not really," he drew in a breath, trying to decide how much he actually wanted to say. "They started as vivid dreams."

"I think you mean nightmares," Dean corrected.

Sam rolled his eyes in response. "Whatever."

Dr. Fraiser pulled the stethoscope from her ears and dropped one hand onto her hip. "I'm not sure what to say," she admitted, after a brief silence. "Your blood pressure's on the high side of normal but still normal. I took another look at your MRI after we didn't find the Gou'ald but everything looks normal there too. And your blood tests are all coming back clean," she shrugged, offering him an encouraging smile. "Far as I can tell you're completely healthy."

"Dr. Fraiser," Teal'c spoke up suddenly. "You have no explanation for Sam Winchester's visions?"

"There's just so much about the brain we still haven't figured out," she replied somewhat helplessly.

"So you at least believe it's possible," Dean said, stating it as fact rather than a question.

Janet smiled. "If there's one thing I've learned in this job, it's anything's possible."

"Don't suppose you have any way of convincing Jack," Sam muttered reaching for his shirt.

---SPN/SG-1---

"What exactly do you plan on telling her?" Carter asked curiously.

Jack glanced briefly away from the road to his passenger. "I haven't thought that far ahead," he admitted with a sigh.

"Perhaps we should have asked the Winchesters, this would have been their next step," she said.

"We're only going there to confirm that Chloe Cole actually still lives there," he said, turning onto the winding road that was West Pine Street.

Sam leaned her arm against the window. "We should probably ask if she's ever heard of Sam and Dean Winchester as well. They might not expect us to actually speak to this girl."

The Colonel nodded in agreement: that would at least be one answer to what had happened today, an answer he'd be much happier swallowing.

"What the hell?" he muttered when a bend in the road revealed a police barricade across the width of the street.

"Could the attack have already happened?" Captain Carter asked dubiously.

Jack shook his head. "The house is about another quarter mile up the road, police wouldn't block off that much." He threw the car into park and got out.

Local residence milled about the edge of the parameter, creating a low buzz on confusion. Jack strode up to the roadblock without stopping, Sam following to his left. A young officer stepped away from his control car and came quickly to meet them.

"I'm sorry sir, the road's closed," he explained, sounding as though he'd said it far too many times already.

"I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill," he introduced, extending his hand to the flustered officer. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

"Officer Jones," he said in reply. "We believe there's a gas leak about a quarter mile up the road."

Jack felt a sinking sensation in his gut, he recognized all to well. "That wouldn't be 248, would it?" he guessed, sharing a quick glance with Sam.

Jones blinked in surprise. "How'd you know?"

"Call it a lucky guess," Jack brushed the matter aside quickly. "What about the family?"

The officer looked a little less sure about answering that question, which told Jack something as well.

"Can you at least tell me if Chloe's alright?" he tried again, adding a good deal of worry to his voice. "She's my goddaughter."

The man's expression became less guarded and he offered Jack a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry sir, right now she's missing and possibly our prime suspect."

Carter took a step closer the officer. "Do you know what alerted them to the gas leak?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said with an emphatic nod. "I was among the first responders, place reeked of rotten eggs."

Thanks for Reading

Morganeth Taren'drel


	10. Chapter 10

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: This chapter has taken longer than I'd hoped to write. I blame that mostly on helping to staff an anime convention at the beginning of the month. It fried my brain for a little while. I had a pretty clear idea of what I wanted for this chapter, but getting the characters to cooperate proved a problem. I'm reasonably happy with the end result, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Many thanks to **The Cleric 007** for editing!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from either Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 10**

Dean glanced over his shoulder to the far side of the infirmary where Dr. Fraiser was discussing something with one of her nursing staff. They'd been inside the converted hospital for more than an hour now but no amount of testing was going to offer up any answers for Sam's visions, which meant they were left waiting and wondering what was going to happen next.

The wounded hunter didn't bother suppressing his sigh of frustration as he rolled his stiff shoulders, grimacing as the stitches pulled. He was more than a little fed up with not knowing what was going to happen to them from one minute to the next. There was also the fact that he and Sam were never truly alone within the SGC; even now Teal'c stood silently between them dark eyes watching intently.

"So what makes you believe?" Dean asked suddenly, tired of the silence that hung between them.

Teal'c raised a considering eyebrow as he looked down at Dean. "There is much in this universe, Dean Winchester, that cannot be explained."

"And you don't want to just brush it all aside?" he continued with a sarcastic turn of his lips.

The Jaffa was silent for a moment, considering his answer. "I too have experienced extremely vivid dreams," he explained.

"Visions?" Dean asked dubiously and he realized how hypocritical it was for him to be doubtful. But even with Sam's visions of the future, it had taken Dean awhile to accept them as fact.

If Teal'c thought the same he didn't show it; he merely watched Dean with a raised brow. "I do not believe so, Dean Winchester."

"But you're still open to the possibility," he didn't bother making it a question.

"Indeed," was all Teal'c said.

He nodded mutely, green eyes traveling to Sam, who was sitting on the edge of the bed staring intently at his hands. "Sammy, you alright?" he asked, stretching across the gap to slap his brother's leg.

Sam jerked out of his thoughts, forehead creasing in surprise before his eyes locked onto Dean. "What now?"

"Good question," Dean agreed, twisting to regard the doctor again. She was moving back towards them. "Any ideas?"

"Lots," Sam quipped, pulling a hand through his hair. "Just nothing we can do here."

Dean nodded in agreement, right hand supporting his left arm at the elbow. His shoulder ached pointedly but he wasn't interested in restricting his movement yet again by putting the sling back on.

"Could we at least go somewhere we might be able to do something useful?" Sam demanded, suddenly getting up from the hospital bed so he was looking Teal'c directly in the eyes.

"Sam Winchester," Teal'c intoned suddenly. "What is it you would be doing?"

The younger Winchester pulled himself up, squaring his shoulders. Dean smirked; he doubted Sam had even noticed he'd done it. It reminded him of Sam facing off with John and the memory drove regret and loss through his gut. "Anything other than sitting around doing nothing," Sam fumed.

"Is everything alright here?" Dr. Fraiser asked, walking back over.

"No," Sam said quickly. "I need to speak to Colonel O'Neill."

"What a coincidence," Daniel spoke up as he walked into the infirmary. "Jack needs to speak to you too."

"Decided we're telling the truth?" Dean couldn't help but ask. "Or is that too much to hope for?"

Daniel offered him an understanding smile and Dean could only imagine the debates the archeologist had had with O'Neill. "The girl you '_saw,_' Chloe," he said pushing his glasses further up his nose. "She's missing."

Sam stiffened. "What do you mean missing?" he asked guardedly.

"Her parents have been murdered and she's disappeared. The police believe she may be responsible," Daniel clarified, watching Sam carefully.

"It would appear your vision was wrong, Sam Winchester," Teal'c said bluntly.

Sam breathed in sharply, turning a look of disbelief on Dean. "That's impossible!" he countered immediately.

Dean straightened up where he sat eyeing his brother intently. "Is it?"

"Yes," Sam stated flatly. "When have my visions ever been wrong before?"

The older Winchester couldn't refute that; as horrible as Sam's visions had been for him, they'd all come true exactly as he'd seen them, despite Sam's desperate attempts to head them off at the pass. Dean struggled to find something he could say to his brother; unfortunately, Daniel beat him to it.

"I guess there's a first time for everything," he said with a thoughtful expression.

Sam rounded on the archeologist glaring darkly. "Not for this! We've got to check the house," he said, moving towards the door but both Daniel and Teal'c moved to intercept him. "Damnit!" he roared hands clenching into fists at his sides.

Dean hopped down from the bed and put himself between Sam and the members of SG-1. "Sam," he spoke the name sharply to get his brother's attention. "C'mere," he said, pushing Sam towards the far side of the room.

"What the hell's the point of these fucking visions, Dean?" Sam demanded, his face a torrent of emotions as he pulled a hand sharply though his hair. "If I can't ever save anyone?!" his voice lowered as he turned his back on the rest of the room.

"I don't know," Dean confessed softly, hating to see Sam tear himself up over this. "But for now focus on the fact it didn't happen the way you saw it. She's missing not dead."

Sam was silent for a minute, considering Dean's words, but his expression didn't lighten; if anything it darkened. "Man, it's just like Ava all over again."

That was not the conclusion Dean had hoped Sam would come to, although he could see the definite similarities. "We don't know that," he countered quickly.

"We don't?" Sam scoffed just a quickly.

Dean nodded, though it was clear Sam wasn't about to believe him. "We don't even know for sure if she's one of the psychic kids, okay?"

"What else could it be?" his little brother demanded.

Dean opened his mouth to reply but didn't immediately have an answer.

Sam shook his head before pulling both hands down his face. "Okay, we know it's not the same demon we've been hunting," his tone was absolutely positive. "They don't change their MO."

That had always been something of a reassuring truth to the creatures they hunted. Those abominations did what they did and yeah, it was horrifying but it was predictable; once you found the pattern you could anticipate the next move. And put a stop to it, if you could get there in time.

Sam released a breath. "We need to get inside that house," he stated, arms folding tightly across his chest.

Dean stopped himself from asking '_why._' Deep down he understood where Sam was coming from, even if he knew going to the house wouldn't change anything. It'd confirm what they suspected and already knew. "Unless you've thought of a brilliant escape plan, I think we're stuck here."

The younger hunter looked up at him without raising his head, "You know this base was designed to keep people out, not in…."

"What?" Dean jerked back in surprise. "Seriously?" he forced himself not to glance towards the other end of the room, knowing full well that they were being watched.

"But it won't do us much good," Sam sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

"Not unless we can get our stuff on the way out," Dean finished with a sigh of his own.

Sam's brow creased in thought. "One of us might be able to pull it off," Sam whispered, eyeing Dean expectantly.

The older Winchester sighed. "Why do I have to be the diversion?"

"Because I've studied the layout of this place longer than you," Sam pointed out quickly, very aware that they might not be left alone much longer.

"When?" Dean scoffed.

"When researching the victims," he replied with a subtle shrug. "The information was there, figured I might as well try and get us out of here since you were busy--"

"Bleeding all over the place," Dean finished pointedly.

"Right…" Sam said, a barely perceivable smile twitching the corners of his mouth. "Think you lost enough to pass out?"

"Daniel!" Jack shouted, drawing Dean and Sam's private conversation to a close.

"Jack, you made good time," Daniel replied simply.

Dean glanced around Sam's tall frame to see the Colonel stride into the room. "I think we missed our opportunity."

"Where are they?" Jack demanded; Daniel pointed an unimpressed finger towards the Winchesters. "What the hell is going on?"

"And you think we would know, why?" Sam returned, slowly turning to face the Colonel.

Jack started, hands rising in disbelief, "You two have had the answers to everything else so far."

"Hard to know more than you, when we're cut off from the rest of the world," Dean pointed out sarcastically.

"Your girl has gone missing, not exactly what you said would happen," Jack pointed out.

"It's complicated," the younger Winchester said.

Jack's eyebrows rose. "Really?" he asked incredulously. "More complicated than a demon killing people?"

"The simple answer, yes," Sam replied coldly.

Dean knew that wasn't going to fly with the Colonel. Releasing a rush of air, Dean pulled a hand down his jaw. "If you've read the journal you know we've been hunting a yellow eyed demon for 23 years," he began green eyes sweeping across the room.

"You started hunting this when you were four?" Jack cut in tone humorless.

In no mood to deal with Jack's skepticism, Dean just flipped the Colonel off and continued with his explanation. "Yellow Eye's has been leaving a slow trail of bodies for decades…"

---SPN/SG-1---

"Let me get this straight," General Hammond said, leaning back in his leather chair. "They're talking about a second demon."

"Yes and no," Daniel spoke up, bouncing slightly on his toes.

"Well, which is it?"

Jack gestured for Daniel to finish his explanation; he'd listened to what Sam and Dean had to say but that didn't mean he believed them. The archeologist on the other hand had been filled with questions for them, having apparently memorized their father's journal already.

"Yes, they believe another demon was responsible for Chloe's disappearance," Daniel said, gesturing towards the briefing room where Sam and Dean waited. "No, we're not going to be dealing with two demons."

Daniel adjusted his glasses and took a step forward, a clear sign he was fascinated by all this. "Apparently this isn't the first time someone has disappeared like this. The Winchesters believe this yellow eyed demon is responsible for it, along with many other deaths," Daniel paused for a brief second. "But he doesn't seem to stay in one place for very long. He's more than likely already long gone."

"So what is this?" Hammond asked bluntly. "Just a coincidence?"

"Oh no, Sir," Jack replied, feigning excitement. "The Winchesters have theories about that as well."

"The other girl that disappeared, Ava Wilson, was also psychic like Sam; same age too, just like Chloe," Daniel once again took up the explanation but Jack couldn't stop himself from groaning in disgust at the use of the word 'psychic'.

"And they believe there's some sort of connection?" the General asked.

"Apparently this demon has some sort of big 'secret' plan for these children," Jack said, throwing his arms into the air at the ridiculousness of this discussion.

Hammond swiveled his chair back towards his desk. "How does this affect the other demon?"

Jack wondered silently if it bothered anyone else how comfortably and freely they were tossing around that term now; he seriously doubted it. "It doesn't," he said bluntly.

"Although it would explain why Sam's vision didn't happen the way he saw it," Daniel was quick to add.

The General rested both palms on the surface of his desk before pushing himself to his feet. "What's your next move?"

"Sam's insistent that we need to look at the house," the archeologist replied, sounding more than a little curious himself. "There's also the matter of the artifact…" Daniel trailed off when he noticed both the Colonel and General were staring at him. "Sorry," he said taking a step back.

"Daniel's right," Jack said bluntly, returning his attention to the general. "If the artifact is connected, it's safer in our hands than those of the general public."

"I haven't managed to get anywhere through normal channels," Daniel added. "The university isn't interested in sharing their find with anyone."

"Colonel, I'm authorizing you and Teal'c to retrieve the artifact and bring it back on base."

Jack felt himself stand a little straighter, not quite at attention but he nodded sharply all the same.

"May I suggest one of the Winchesters go along as well?" Daniel asked and quickly clarified. "They know better than anyone here how to defend themselves should you run into the demon again."

"He has a point, Jack," Hammond agreed with a rueful smile.

The Colonel glanced briefly out the door, seeing Sam and Dean seated at the briefing table with Carter and Teal'c. Dean was idly twisting his chair while Sam was in what appeared to be a deep discussion with the Captain.

"Are you sure that's wise, General?" Jack couldn't stop himself from asking; they were after all still civilians, even if they had better training than most soldiers.

Hammond nodded once. "Have them both sign nondisclosure agreements and keep an eye on him. I want that artifact brought back to the SGC."

"General, what about Chloe?" Daniel asked suddenly.

"You said there was no longer a connection."

"No longer a connection to the demon that attacked Sam and Dean," he clarified quickly. "But a demon was involved, possibly the one that the Winchesters have been hunting for 23 years. It's a lead they can't afford to overlook."

"I get the impression you're just as eager to examine the house, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said shrewdly.

Daniel nodded immediately. "I'd like to get a better understanding of the lives the Winchesters lead."

"I won't be able to gain you access to the crime scene; it'd raise too many red flags with local PD."

"That's okay General," Jack cut in quickly. "Breaking and entering is one of their strong suits.

---SPN/SG-1---

It was well passed midnight when Sam climbed from the nondescript Government Issue truck, pulling his beat up duffle with him. They chose to park a block away from their destination, the safest way to avoid detection if there was still a police presence at the Cole house. He and Dean had snuck into their fair share of crime scenes over the years and it felt more than a little strange to be doing it again with members of the SGC. They were military, well at least Samantha was. It was clear that their line of work allowed for greater latitude in bending of the rules; that didn't make it feel any less wrong.

He tried not to think about Dean and what his brother was doing right now. Sam hadn't thought it was a good idea that Dean accompany Jack and Teal'c to get the artifact. But Dean hadn't been about to sit it out or take any sort of concern from his little brother. It was just another one of those stubborn Winchester traits.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" the Captain asked as they made their way down a narrow alley which connected the two streets together.

Sam shrugged, brown eyes scanning the length of the street that he could easily see. "I'll know it when I see it," he said.

"I'd imagine you're looking for some sign that your demon was there," Daniel mused quietly.

The hunter tried not to flinch at the word '_your_;' he never wanted to be connected like that with Yellow Eyes. At the same time, Sam knew he couldn't lie to himself forever; John's confession to Dean had made that more than clear. There was no use denying the connection, even if this dark link served no other purpose than to force him to kill. He'd made Dean promise him that he'd stop him if it ever got that far. That offered Sam some small comfort.

Sam cleared his throat and directed Daniel and Samantha to follow him towards the back of the house. "At the very least, there'll be sulfur," he answered finally, though Sam was hoping to find something more to confirm who Chloe was.

They made it around the back of the house; yellow police tap cordoned off the front but there didn't appear to be a police presence outside the home. Sam glanced briefly at the two members of SG-1; they were both carefully watching their surroundings but didn't appear the least bit bothered with what they were doing. Getting inside the house proved no trouble at all. Once inside Sam passed a flashlight to both the Captain and Dr. Jackson.

"Scent of blood is overpowering," Daniel said, wrinkling his nose.

Sam flicked on his light, panning the beam across the kitchen. "Demons aren't known for killing cleanly," he told them flatly. "I'm going to look in the bedrooms."

Making his way towards the hallway, Sam's brown eyes swept over the living room, where it appeared the worst of the attack had taken place. Sam stopped at the first room, casting the beam from his flashlight over the furnishing before stepping across the threshold. Chloe's room looked like any normal girl's bedroom: pictures and art hung from the walls and various stuffed animals lined the top of a bookshelf. He moved over to the closet and pulled the doors open; pressing aside the clothes, Sam wasn't surprised to see a blank wall. He couldn't expect them to all leave the same signs.

Sam released a breath, turning back to the room his eyes landing on a large spiral bound book resting on the center of Chloe's desk.

"Find anything?" Carter asked from the hallway.

The hunter lifted the book into his hands, flipping it opened. "Maybe…" he muttered, seeing the detailed portraits inside.

"You were right," Daniel said, coming in behind Samantha. "There was sulfur in the living room."

Sam nodded absently, flipping back a couple of pages, his stomach dropping when he saw a familiar face. "Ava…" the name was barely above a whisper.

The Captain came up beside him, flashlight further illuminating the picture. "What?"

"This is Ava Wilson," Sam explained; the pencil artwork was near picture quality, there was no mistaking the face. "She's another of the psychic children."

"Did she live around here?" Daniel asked, coming to stand on Sam's other side.

"No, not even close," Sam replied, flipping back another page. "This is Scott Carey."

"Another psychic?" Carter asked.

"Yeah…" he breathed, going to the very first page of the book. For the first twenty or so pages it looked like a normal art book: pictures of still life, animals and beautiful landscapes. Sam's heart clenched when he came to the next picture. "Jess…" he felt tears well up in his eyes as he stared at the picture of his girlfriend pinned to the ceiling of his apartment.

---SPN/SG-1---

Dean crouched in front of the locked door, small flashlight held between his teeth as he manipulated the pins to gain access inside the university. Teal'c and O'Neill stood guard, backs to the door, but Dean could feel Jack glancing towards him every couple of seconds. Winchester smirked in satisfaction when he felt the last pin fall into place and quickly turned the knob.

"I can do that too, you know," Jack commented to Teal'c as Dean straightened up. "I just don't feel like it."

"Is that what it says on your resume?" Dean asked with a smirk. "I just don't feel like it?"

Jack gave him an unimpressed look before stepping inside the building. Dean chuckled to himself, readjusting his grip on his favorite double-barreled shotgun. Dean felt a little more in control now that he had some of his equipment back. Jack had drawn the line at letting Dean take his ivory handled Colt, only allowing for rock salt rounds, but bullets weren't likely to help with anything they might run into now.

"Where is the artifact?" Teal'c asked bringing up the rear.

Dean pointed towards the hall on their left. "This way." He reached into his coat pocket, left hand closing around the EMF meter; it wouldn't do them much good once they got into the room where the artifact and other bones were being kept but it might still be able to offer a little advanced warning if the demon was stalking them.

Glancing up towards the ceiling, Dean's green eyes caught sight of one of the many security cameras on campus. "You sure your techs took care of the surveillance?" he asked, coming up behind the Colonel.

Jack came to a stop. "Just how would you and Sam have done this without us?" O'Neill asked sarcastically.

"We'd manage," Dean said defensively.

"Your method of 'managing' wouldn't happen to be how you ended up on the FBI's most wanted list, would it?" Jack returned tone amused.

Dean offered the Colonel a sneer before continuing down the hall. "Speaking of the Feds, what exactly are your plans?"

"Well, you're clearly not what anyone thinks you are," he replied in an offhand way.

Winchester chuckled dryly; that was a truth, mostly because people just weren't up to believing in the possibility that the supernatural was more than a crazed pipe dream. Even people who claimed to be open-minded about the world he and Sam lived in tended to shut down when they actually, truly had to accept the very real existence of the supernatural.

"What you really mean to say is, you don't know yet," Dean said, coming to a stop outside their intended destination. "Those nondisclosure agreements might not be enough? Seriously, what would you do if someone refused to…" he trailed off when the familiar buzz of the EMF came muffled from his pocket.

"Does it warn of the demon?" Teal'c asked as Dean pulled the small device from his leather coat.

Dean swept the antenna towards the closed door watching as the reading went up slightly. "Could be," he admitted. "Might also just be reacting to the artifact. Here, hold it," he said, passing the EMF to Jack so he could fish his lock picks back out of his pocket.

Slipping the slender pieces of metal inside the lock, Dean worked quickly, the doors inside the university far easier to bypass than the ones at the main entrances. Dean pushed the door opened a crack, peering into the room: only illuminated by the street lights outside, the large room was filled with a near bluish glow.

"Alright," he said quietly, glancing back towards Jack and Teal'c. "Remember the plan?"

"Indeed," Teal'c replied simply.

No surprise to Dean, Jack wasn't going to be so easy. "You know, it wasn't really all that complicated to begin with," he said condescendingly.

Dean just smirked. "I wanted to keep it nice and simple for you, first hunt and all."

"This is hardly my first rodeo," Jack countered indignantly.

"Really? When was the last time you tangled with a demon that can hide in the shadows?" Dean returned, eyebrow raised curiously.

Jack's expression hardened but Dean could have sworn he saw amusement buried deep in the Colonel's brown eyes. "Let's get on with this," O'Neill said, passing the EMF meter back to Dean.

Winchester nodded in agreement, still smiling as his green eyes fell on the hard shelled case Teal'c carried over his left shoulder. They'd filled it with rock salt before leaving the base; lacking an iron lined case they could store the artifact in for travel, Dean thought this was their best bet for avoiding the demon once the box was in their possession. Admittedly, he wasn't positive that it would actually work but he hadn't let that part slip to the Colonel.

Jack shouldered passed Dean, obviously use to taking point. The hunter followed a step behind, attention immediately honing in on the artifact at the far side of the room. Long black shadows stretched across the floor of the room, cast by tables and cabinets. Dean knew each one of them could possibly conceal the demonic creature. He turned up the volume on his EMF, the buzzing becoming more persistent.

The meter screamed suddenly but even that wasn't enough warning. Jack was flung aside, the demon roaring into existence. Dean raised his shotgun without thought, pulling the trigger; rock salt exploded against the creature's chest causing it to shriek in pain. "Teal'c, get the artifact!" he shouted firing his second round.

The demon dodged the shot before diving into Dean's personal space. He barely had time to breathe before Dean realized he was being thrown across the room. The hunter slammed into one of the bone laden tables; he felt detached for a second as he heard the bones crunch and the table crack beneath him. Pain assaulted him a heartbeat later, his head cracking off the cold tile floor. Despite his best efforts blackness swam up over his senses pulling him into the black.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	11. Chapter 11

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: I'm both surprised and pleased that I have this chapter ready for you. I had some serious doubts about completing it on time or at all. But here it is what I believe to be the third last chapter for this story. It's a little depressing to think I'm so close to the end, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Many thanks to **The Cleric 007** for editing!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 11**

Colonel O'Neill had taken the lead, forcing his way past Dean as they'd step inside the large deserted room. He felt more than a little ridiculous to be carrying around a shotgun loaded with rock salt. If he had a weapon Jack definitely preferred it to be lethal rather than annoying. But the Winchesters had insisted that these shells would be the only weapon of any real value if they came across the demon.

The demon; Jack rolled his eyes even as he cautiously swept the room for movement. He didn't even want to get started on what he thought of that. He knew what he'd seen on the surveillance video; there was no denying the existence of the creature. What he was having a hard time accepting was where it had come from and that it couldn't be killed by ordinary means. Jack was secretly a little curious to actually see this 'demon' face to face.

The humming whine of Dean's EMF meter grew louder, blaring a sudden warning. Jack looked to Winchester having no idea of that's how the device was supposed to react now that they were closer to their intended target. Dean's eyes were fixed on a spot in front of him and Jack turned just in time to see the shadow solidify into the creature. Its shriek was piercing as it knocked him aside with humiliating ease.

Pain lanced across Jack's forehead, the demon's claw clipping his temple as he fell back skidding across the tiled floor. Years of intense training meant Jack maintained a firm hold on his weapon. The first shotgun blast was deafening in the open room, reverberating off the walls and mixing with the demon's cries of pain. Jack winced as the sound only served to rise the ringing within his ears.

"Teal'c, get the artifact!" Dean shouted like this was nothing new at all.

O'Neill shook his head to clear his thoughts, military instincts forcing him back to his feet only to see the demon closing in on Dean. Winchester was quick, raising his gun and firing without a second's hesitation. The demon, however, was faster.

"Look out!" the warning had barely formed in Jack's head when Dean was tossed like a rag doll across the room, still the words shouted uselessly.

Jack winced as Dean's body collided with unnatural force into one of the many tables strewn with bones and other artifacts. The kid landed hard on his left side before the table broke beneath the force. The demon completely ignored Jack and rushed towards Dean.

"Hey!" he shouted, offended anything would consider him not to be a threat. O'Neill fired his shotgun, blasting the demon's back with rock salt; he immediately cocked the gun again expelling the spent round and fired again.

Dean snapped back to his feet like a spring; he wavered obviously but his focus extreme as he fought to reload his double barreled shotgun. "You alright, kid?" Jack demanded firing another round into the screaming demon.

---SPN/SG-1---

Dean's lungs gasped for air suddenly as he snapped back to consciousness and he couldn't stop the groan of pain that escaped him. Pain assaulted his body; the pounding in his head was almost enough to override the burning pain in his chest and back, almost. The demon's shriek was all Dean needed to hear; it sent a surge or adrenaline coursed through his veins forcing him back to his feet.

The room wobbled in front of him, black spots swimming in front of Dean's vision for a second before it cleared. What he saw was the demon closing in. Dean fumbled with his shotgun, pulling the barrel down so he could remove the spent rounds. Before he'd got the new shells in Dean heard another deafening blast from across the room.

"You alright, kid?" Jack called sharply.

"I'll live," he confirmed, snapping the barrel back into place and raising it to aim at the demonic creature.

"Any time now Teal'c!" the Colonel shouted, reloading his gun.

Dean fired both rounds at the demon as it leapt for him again. He glanced down the room just in time to see the Jaffa thrust the artifact inside the salt filled case. The demon shrieked in agony a second before vanishing back into the shadows. It took a moment before Dean allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief which only elicited a hiss of pain.

"Glad that worked," he said, grimacing as he tried to straighten his body.

Jack stopped dead where he had been walking over. "You're telling me you didn't know it would?" O'Neill demanded incredulously.

"Heh," Dean chuckled painfully. "When was the last time I faced a demon like this?" he asked rhetorically.

The Colonel swiped a hand down his face, smearing a trail of blood coming from his temple. "You're a smart ass."

"Yes, Sir," he smirked tiredly; it'd been an exceptionally long day.

"Are you alright, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked, coming over to them the case held in his hands.

Jack touched his temple and shrugged. "Nothing a couple of aspirin can't cure; what about you?" the Colonel asked, turning considering brown eyes back on Dean.

He thought the question for a moment; feeling every ache and pain in an overwhelming sea that caused the edges of his vision to blur. "We'd better get moving," he said instead; the last thing they needed was security finding them.

"Right," Jack agreed, motioning for Teal'c to lead the way.

Dean drew in a shallow breath, forcing himself to step confidently forward and follow O'Neill and the Jaffa from the room. He held his left arm against his ribs though it did nothing to ease the pain. Dean was pretty sure he'd ripped some, if not all, of the stitches Fraiser had put in his shoulder; he could feel his blood slowly trailing down his arm.

Jack stepped in front of Dean as they exited the building, his right hand held out towards Dean. "Give me your keys," he ordered bluntly.

Dean blinked, trying to process the question; his head felt like it was trying to split apart. He glanced over the Colonel's shoulder, seeing the Impala parked not far from where they stood. "Man, I hardly let Sammy drive," Dean replied with a forced smirk. He stepped around Jack and continued on, standing still only gave his brain time to register how tired and sore he actually was.

"Yeah," Jack drawled coming up beside him. "But I'm not about to catch heat from Fraiser for letting you drive with a concussion."

Green eyes narrowed; Dean had been both relieved and thrilled when the Colonel had reluctantly agreed to take the classic ride. Jack had appeared impressed by the well maintained '67 Impala but hadn't seen the need to take it over one of the trucks on base. Sam had actually been the one with the convincing argument. If Dean's plan for the case filled with salt failed their next best option was a devil's trap and, quite conveniently, there was one already drawn on the inside of the Impala's trunk.

"I'll be fine," he said firmly. Adrenalin from the fight was still flowed through him, taking the edge off the pain but leaving the world a little wobbly on the edges. So long as he could walk a straight line, Dean didn't see any need to pass up his ride.

Stepping around O'Neill, Dean pressed on towards his car. Teal'c was waiting patiently by the trunk and Dean reached into his front pocket to fish out his keys. They'd no sooner seen the light of day when Jack moved to snatched them out of Dean's hand. The hunter's reaction time was slower than he'd been willing to admit but became all too clear as he futilely tried to maintain his hold.

"Hey!" Dean barked, just barely remembering to keep his voice down.

"Sorry, did I make it sound like this was open for debate?" O'Neill asked smoothly, slipping the key into the lock on the trunk.

Dean pulled his right hand down his jaw, wincing as his head throbbed all the harder; he sighed in defeat, too tired to fight out what he already knew was a loosing battle. Making his way to the passenger's side door Dean climbed into the car, holding his breath as he settled back on the bench. Pain raked across his chest with every breath and he tipped his head back hoping to ease the oxygen into his lungs.

With hands that had slowly begun to shake—Dean thought the adrenalin was fast leaving his system—he pulled his leather jacket and button down shirt away from his side. "Fuck…" the word slipped from Dean's mouth when green eyes landed on his bloodied, ruined shirt. Pale bone protruded from his left side near where his rib cage ended. He knew at a glance that it wasn't his but that didn't make it any less painful.

Dean breathed slowly through the renewed pain. He would have liked to know why seeing the damage always increased the level of pain the body felt; nothing had changed really. Dean swallowed thickly, right hand hesitating to touch the bone splinter he wanted to pull it out but knew better than to try.

Jack leaned across the front seat as he turned the key in the ignition. "What is it?" he asked left hand reaching across to pull Dean's jacket aside.

"Just a little souvenir," Dean breathed with a pained smirk.

"Ah dammit," Jack swore and straightened back up in on the bench as the car accelerated away from the university. "Don't touch it," the Colonel warned.

"Does it look like I'm going to?" he demanded back, trying without success to relax his body. Tense muscles were doing nothing but telegraphing each bump and dip in the road up through his battered body.

---SPN/SG-1---

The drive back to Cheyenne Mountain was a silent one for Sam. He stared down at the closed sketchbook resting on his lap, the fingers of his right hand toying with its pointed edge. Sam didn't need to open the book yet again to see the pictures drawn inside, especially not that of his girlfriend Jess. That sketch was as etched into his brain as the true memory of her death.

The more Sam thought about it, the stronger he came to believe that somehow Jess' death had been the catalyst that started it all. She had been killed just to pull him back into this life but why? To leave him no other options but to hunt down the son of a bitch that killed her? How did that progress Yellow Eye's plan? Sam doubted he'd find the answers he was looking for. All the while his powers and those of the other psychics grew; now they were starting to disappear without a trace.

Dark eyes blinked to see Jess' terrified eyes staring back at him and Sam's heart clenched in his chest. He hadn't even realized he'd opened the book again. Sam tried to tear his eyes away but only made it as far as the date. Clicking on his flashlight, Sam sucked in a breath.

September 7th 2005. The night he'd first dreamt of her death.

Sam shut his eyes against the pain and guilt. He could have said something, should have. He'd regret his silence for the rest of his life but he knew dwelling on it now wasn't going to solve anything. Dean had been right: the anger he bore at himself and the demon would have killed him.

"Sam?"

The hunter blinked in surprise, vision finally leaving the sketchbook only to see Daniel turned in his seat to watch him. "Yeah?" he asked, quickly closing the book. Neither Carter nor Daniel had asked Sam about the sketch of Jess, which he'd been grateful for only until he remembered they'd read the FBI file and details of Jess' death had been in there.

"Could I take a look at the book?" Daniel asked, reaching a hand back across the seat.

Sam nodded, silently passing the book across to the archeologist. Samantha looked across the truck briefly as Daniel flipped the sketchbook open, switching his own flashlight on.

"How have you and Dean been tracking these psychics up till now?" Carter asked after a moment of silence.

Sam cleared his throat. "We uh, ran a nationwide search for deaths caused in nursery fires," he began, rubbing both hands down his face.

"That couldn't cover everyone," Daniel said, looking up briefly from the sketchbook. "Up until yesterday both Chloe's parents were alive."

"No," he confirmed with a sigh. "Most don't fit that pattern, but at the time it's all we had to go on."

Captain Carter glanced back across the truck again. "So you have no clear idea of how many children there are?"

Sam briefly met Carter's blue eyes through the review mirror and shook his head. That was another question Sam doubted he'd get an answer to.

"I take it this is the Yellow Eyed Demon?" Daniel asked, lifting the sketchbook to reveal a shadowed man, the only color on the page his yellow eyes. "He looks human," the archeologist commented.

"Unlike the demon that attacked the base, Yellow Eye's needs to possess a human body," Sam explained.

"Why?" Carter asked.

Sam drew in a breath. "Outside of a human host, demons are little more than black smoke. There isn't a lot they can do in that form."

"What makes the one that attacked you and Dean different?" Samantha pressed, eyeing him with the review mirror.

"Okay," the hunter said, trying quickly to decide what all needed to be explained. "Demonic creatures like Daevas and Hell Hounds don't need to possess a physical form in order to kill. Demons on the other hand…" he trailed off before shifting to sit on the edge of his seat. "Think of it like the difference between humans and animals, higher intelligence, completely different league."

The truck slowed as they approached the first check station leading onto the base. "What happens to the human they're possessing?" Daniel asked, turning in his seat so his back was to the door.

"Worst nightmare you could ever imagine," he replied solemnly, memories of Meg flashing to the surface. "The host is awake for it all."

"So it's similar to Gou'ald possession," Daniel commented as Carter pulled the truck to a stop inside the parking garage.

"At first glance," Sam agreed, climbing out of the truck. "But demons don't heal their hosts," brown eyes searched down the row of cars for the familiar form of the Impala.

"So if their host dies?" Daniel asked, tucking the sketchbook under his arm.

Sam pulled a hand through his hair. "They remain alive so to speak, until the demon's been exorcised."

Captain Carter flashed her military ID and pushed her way inside the base before glancing back towards Sam. "Does the exorcism kill the demon?" she asked, leading the way to the elevator.

The hunter shook his head noting the strange looks he received striding along side Carter and Daniel. "I wish," he exclaimed softly, making a point to keep the conversation between them. "Exorcising only sends the demon back to hell."

"Captain," a female officer spoke up as they passed her desk, "Colonel O'Neill left a message for you," she continued, coming to her feet sharply a slip of paper held out in her right hand.

The Captain came to a stop, her expression looking surprised, "He and Teal'c have already returned?" she asked accepting the note.

"Yes ma'am, about fifteen minutes ago."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Samantha said, looking to the note.

Sam attempted to glance down at the note as they stepped inside the elevator. "Everything alright?"

"Colonel O'Neill wants us to meet in the infirmary," she responded, the index finger of her left hand pressing the button for the twenty-first floor.

"Does it say why?" Sam asked worriedly, dark eyes skipping between the Captain and the changing number display.

Captain Carter shook her head. "No."

Sam turned his attention back to the slowly rising number; he felt a cold sensation settle in the pit of his stomach. It didn't take much to guess that they had been attacked by the demon while getting the artifact. Sam tried not to let his imagination run away from him; Dean might not have even been the one injured, though Sam couldn't seem to convince himself of that.

The elevator came to a stop a moment later; Sam wanted to dodge off the machine and bolt down the hall but was forced to patiently follow Carter who stepped off ahead of him. The door to the infirmary stood open and Sam immediately saw Dean sitting stiffly on one of the beds. He sucked in a breath at his brother's appearance.

The older Winchester looked pale and battered, dried blood staining his flesh in several places. He sat on the edge of the hospital bed in nothing more than his boxers, an IV line leading into the back of his hand. Dr. Fraiser stood in front of him, gloved hands checking the dressing on Dean's left shoulder. Colonel O'Neill sat on the opposite bed; a fresh bandaged covered his left temple while a nurse checking his vitals.

"Dean," Sam said stepping over to his brother. "What happened?"

"What do you think happened, Sammy?" both Dean and Jack said at the same time. Their tones sounding equally tired; only his name at the end differentiated the two.

"Colonel, are you alright?" Carter asked.

"Yeah just fine," Jack said, standing up from the bed. "We've got the artifact; I want to know what it is and exactly what we're dealing with."

Dean straightened a little with a hiss of pain. "You take it out of that box and we'll be dealing with the demon all over again," he warned.

"Did you plan on leaving it in there forever?" Jack returned sarcastically.

"The thought had crossed my mind," Dean admitted with a tired grin.

Daniel placed the sketchbook down on the end of the bed. "Then what would you suggest?"

"I can secure the room with a devil's trap," Sam offered, not eager to leave Dean until he was sure his brother would be alright. But he couldn't risk the demon escaping on base.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the Colonel demanded.

"Wait just a minute," Janet spoke up sharply and all eyes immediately fell to her. "Now you've all been going for more than twenty-four hours straight. Will the salt hold until tomorrow?" she asked her attention turning to Sam and Dean.

Dean nodded once and Sam agreed. "If the demon hasn't attacked since the artifact was put in the case, we should be safe."

"Then I say leave it until tomorrow," the doctor said firmly. "You all need rest."

Carter opened her mouth as though to object but no word came out when she was met with a sharp look from Dr. Fraiser. "Do I need to make that a direct order?" Janet asked very calmly.

Sam's attention focused in on Dean, when his older brother's head began to droop. "Hey," he said softly, drawing Dean's eyes. "You alright?"

"I'm super," Dean replied dryly.

"He's got a mild concussion and lost a fair amount of blood, again," Janet supplied, not sounding the least bit pleased.

The younger hunter stepped around the bed and took a seat on the bed Jack had been sitting on. Now looking at Dean head on, Sam got a better idea of the shape his brother was in. The left side of Dean's chest displayed a mass of darkening bruises that looked like they stretched around to his back but they weren't what caught Sam's attention. There was a piece of bone protruding from Dean's side. "How'd that happen?" he asked his brother catching Dean's hooded gaze.

"Dr. Fraiser?" Sam vaguely heard a nurse come into the room. "Here are the x-rays you ordered."

The hunter glanced down at his side eyeing the piece of bone. "S'not mine," he replied, looking back up.

"Yeah, I figured that," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Why's it still in you?"

"I needed to make sure removing it wouldn't cause more damage," Dr. Fraiser spoke up, her attention focused on two chest x-rays that were lit up against the wall. "It wasn't enough that you had to tear the stitches in your shoulder, you had to crack two ribs as well?" she asked, turning back towards her patient.

Dean met the doctor's gaze, the corners of his lips twitching up into what could have been his best smile if he hadn't looked so bloody tired. "Next time I'll make sure there's something softer to land on."

Sam stood from the bed. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Yes, Sammy," Dean sighed with exasperation.

Dr. Fraiser offered him a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine once he's had rest and some fluids." She stepped up to Dean's side, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. "I'm going to need you to lie back," she instructed.

Sam stepped in to help pull the blankets down the bed, before lifting Dean's legs onto the mattress. It was a testament to how tired Dean was that he didn't say anything in complaint.

"Alright, Karen," Janet said, nodding to the nurse who sat at the far end of the room. Karen stood quickly and wheeled over a table laden with medical supplies.

"Hey," Dean said catching Sam's attention. "You find what you were looking for?"

The younger Winchester stepped around the doctor and leaned against the wall by the head of the bed. "Yeah," he replied slowly, noting the heavy lids Dean was fighting to keep open. "I'll tell you about it later."

"That bad?" his brother asked, forcing his eyes to open more.

Sam looked towards the end of the other bed, to the sketchbook Daniel had left behind, and was suddenly struck with the realization that he hadn't noticed any of them leave. Blowing out a breath, Sam pulled a hand through his hair. "When has it ever been good?" he asked, the question becoming rhetorical when he realized Dean had lost his battle for consciousness.

---SPN/SG-1---

Janet glanced up from the file she'd been reviewing, only to see Sam Winchester sitting on the edge of his brother's bed. The younger Winchester hadn't left his brother's side since returning to the base. It had been clear from the moment she'd met them—and it hardly felt like it had been less than twenty-four hours—that they were closer than most siblings their age. Janet had taken the time to read the FBI's files on both of them and could gather, even if most of the information was inaccurate, that they'd grown up in a tough situation.

Having several chances to quietly watch them both on their own and interacting with others had been rather revealing. The Winchesters were both cautious of their surroundings, weary of the people who came to close. But at the exact same time they both could put on an easy charm that made you forget they were ready for anything.

She glanced down at her watch before quietly getting to her feet. It had been more than two hours since Dean had given into sleep; it was about time she checked on him and saw to getting Sam off to bed. Janet's lips curved slightly at the strong maternal instinct she had begun to feel towards the boys. It had started the minute she'd laid eyes on Dean gripping his brother's arm tightly while Sam and Colonel O'Neill struggled to staunch the flow of blood. They didn't have anyone else but each other. It was clear they'd come to rely on nothing else, which only made Janet want to help them all the more.

Stepping over to the hospital bed, palely lit by a dim overhead light, Janet caught Sam's attention. "Dean's going to be just fine, Sam," she said softly offering him a reassuring smile.

Sam looked at her for a moment before dark eyes returned to his brother's face. "He always is," the words were spoken darkly, almost bitter and he glanced back up to offer her a smile of his own. "Even when he isn't," he tone was softer now, making him appear far older than he was.

Dr. Fraiser didn't know what to say; she knew without having to ask that there was more to his words than just what he'd said. There was a struggle in his eyes that Sam quickly hid by looking away. She wanted to ask him about it but knew instinctively that he wouldn't want to talk; perhaps he'd already said too much.

"You should get some sleep," she tried instead, noting clearly the dark circles under the young man's eyes.

"I'm alright," he said and those words sounded as worn out as Dean's. 'I'm fine.'

Janet ducked her head so she was looking Sam in the eyes. "That wasn't a suggestion," she told him firmly and watched as his eyes widened a little before a ghost of a smirk crossed his lips. "Take the bed there," she said indicating the bed next to Dean. "I'll wake you if anything changes."

Sam was silent for a moment and for a second Janet was sure she was going to have a fight on her hands. But the hunter finally nodded in resignation and shifted over to the other bed. He stretched out fully clothed on top of the blankets, head turned so he could see Dean before he finally let his eyes fall closed.

She watched him for a few minutes, smiling in satisfaction when she caught the change in his breathing. She doubted Sam had realized just how tired he was before he'd lain down. With one problem taken care of, Janet turned her focus on Dean. The older Winchester looked pale against the white sheets and she quickly checked his IV line, making sure the flow hadn't been disrupted.

When Teal'c and Jack had brought Dean in, dazed and bloody, Janet hadn't been able to decide who she was madder at: Dean for tearing her earlier work, or Jack for insisting Dean go along with them. In the back of her mind she did acknowledge that it was odd the demon truly responsible never entered the equation. As much as she thought Dean should have been taking it easy, she hadn't been able to argue with the fact that there were only two people on base who truly knew how to deal with a demon. That fact alone had overruled her medical advice.

With a shake of her head, Dr. Fraiser refocused her attention on her patient. "Dean?" she called his name softly and received an incoherent groan for her troubles. Reaching out a hand Janet lightly touched Dean's shoulder and spoke his name again.

The young man jerked awake; unfocused green eyes flying wide searching for the threat as muscles tensed sharply. "Sammy?" he mumbled hoarsely.

"It's alright," the doctor soothed, drawing Dean's attention as she placed a hand on his forehead. "Can you tell me your name?"

Dean stared at her for a long minute confusion playing out on his face. "Dean," he said finally, swallowing hard.

"Do you know where you are?" she continued, beginning a quick cursory exam.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked instead, eyes trying to see around her.

"He's right over there," Janet replied, pointing to the other bed.

Dean visibly relaxed when he saw his sleeping brother. "He alright?" was the hunter's next question as he returned his gaze to Janet.

She didn't fight the smile that tugged at her lips. "He's fine, worried about you," she answered.

"S'my job to take care of him," Dean said with a tiny shake of his head.

"It doesn't go both ways?" she asked curiously.

Dean's eyelids dropped heavily. "S'noying when he does it…"

Janet smiled again and pulled the blankets up over Dean's chest as he slipped back into sleep. She stared at the two sleeping men for a moment before crossing the infirmary to a small supply room. Retrieving an extra blanket she quickly covered Sam's lanky frame, before returning to her paper work.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	12. Chapter 12

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: This chapter is a long time in coming I know, and I apologize for the delay. I hit the wall so to speak, and it took a while for me to find a way over it. But I'm feeling very optimistic about completing this story although I think I'll be sad to see it end. One more chapter to go, I hope you enjoy. Thank you for your patience and kind words

Thanks to **The Cleric 007** for editing this chapter.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from either Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 12**

Dean blinked without really opening his eyes, the haze of sleep fading suddenly leaving him vaguely aware of his surroundings. He noticed immediately that his entire body ached right down to the bone; it was the familiar feeling of a hunt hard won. But Dean's memories of the last few days filtered to the surface and he knew the hunt wasn't over yet.

Opening his eyes Dean stared down at himself through blurred vision. The events of the night before were fast to return when he drew in a deep breath, eliciting a groan of pain. Dean let his eyes fall closed again wishing briefly for sleep as each ache and pain became more pronounced.

"Got to stop waking up like this," he grumbled, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

"Yeah you do," Sam said matter-of-factly, coming into Dean's line of sight from the left.

"Hey Sammy," he muttered, dropping his head back against the pillow. "What time is it?" Green eyes glanced around the infirmary but couldn't see a clock.

"About half past noon," Sam answered and reached down for the bed controls raising the upper half.

Dean pulled a hand down his jaw hearing the _whisk_ of his silver ring against course stubble. "Figures," he mumbled into his palm. "I'm starving." Dean looked up at his little brother, seeing a relieved smile touch his Sam's face.

Sam reaching down to the end of the bed and drew the table up across Dean's lap; a covered tray from the commissary rested on the center. "Jack wanted to wake you hours ago," he commented as Dean reached for the meal.

"Why?" Dean asked distractedly, more interested in his food than Sam's answer.

His brother shrugged. "Poor phrasing on Dr. Fraiser's part, she told O'Neill and the others that they were on stand down until you woke."

"Why?" Dean asked again, tearing his eyes off his half eaten sandwich. "You're perfectly capable of securing the demon yourself."

"I know," his brother nodded, folding arms across his chest. "She didn't mean you needed to be there, only she doesn't think we need to be doing anything until you could."

Dean took another bite of his sandwich, green eyes looking down the length of the infirmary to where Dr. Fraiser sat speaking softly on the phone. "We've got a job to do Sammy," Dean told his brother bluntly. "The sooner we get it done the better."

"Yeah," Sam nodded once, "and I'm pretty sure you know first hand that you don't want to piss her off," he jutted his chin towards the base's Chief Medical Officer.

Dean considered the good doctor for a moment; remembering clearly her reaction to seeing him back in her infirmary. For someone so small, Janet Fraiser did intimidation very well; she made it perfectly clear her first concern was the health of her patients. Dean hadn't known how to respond to her apparent 'offense' that he'd been injured again. But one thing was for sure: he completely agreed with Sam's assessment of the situation.

Pushing that aside, Dean returned his gaze to Sam's face, noting for the first time the guarded look in his brother's eyes. He knew that expression all too well and it drew out flashes of pain and medication fogged memories from the night before. "So, what did you find at the house?"

Sam's expression sharpened for a second before he turned away, stepping over to the bed next to Dean's. "I found this," he said offering Dean the spiral bound sketchbook.

He accepted the book with his right hand, laying the spine against his thighs before letting the cover and several pages flip down against his legs. Dean started at the image of Jess pinned to the ceiling, the last of the two places he'd ever seen her. "Chloe had death visions too?" he asked glancing up at Sam.

"Not like mine," Sam said, pushing the table back down the bed so he could take a seat by Dean's knees. "At least I don't think so," he reached out a hand, flipping briefly to the next page and then the one after. "I mean check out the dates on these."

Dean saw a detailed sketch of Sam before his eyes landed on a near picture quality image of himself. There was a bandage on his neck, and an abrasion above his left eye. "Now that's a decent picture of me," he smirked.

"Look at the date," Sam said again, sounding a little exasperated.

He looked back down at the sketch; the date read: September 22 2005 9:45pm. Dean looked up at his brother feeling a little stunned. "That's from the hunt with the Wendigo."

"I think Chloe saw things as they happened," Sam explained, flipping several more pages in the sketchbook. "I'm pretty sure she also had visions of most of the psychics, possibly all of us."

There were several pages of faces Dean didn't recognize before he saw a portrait of Max Miller. More than a little curious himself, Dean flipped quickly through the pages, interested to see how many there actually were. He came to a dead stop when Dean came face to face with his dad.

There on a page like all the others stood John Winchester. He was smirking sarcastically as his eyes shone yellow. The color stood out sharply against the black and white of the sketch and Dean found himself swallowing thickly at the memory.

"Is everything alright?"

Dean slammed the sketchbook shut on reflex, looking up sharply to see Dr. Fraiser standing by the bed. He'd been so absorbed in the details of John's face that he hadn't even heard her approach. "Yeah, fine," he managed to say, clearing his throat.

"You look like you just saw a ghost," Janet said softly, eyeing him critically.

"Heh," Dean chuckled dryly, feeling a rueful smirk tug at his lips. "'fraid I see those all the time, doesn't have quite the same effect."

"No," she agreed slowly, "I suppose not."

Dean passed the sketchbook back to Sam as he brother stood from the edge of the bed before shifting himself. The movement caused pain to flare up in his body, stiff from sleep and just the general beating it had taken. He managed not to let a groan slip passed his lips but Dr. Fraiser had been watching him carefully.

"How're you feeling?" she asked, reaching into her breast pocket.

The hunter eyed the penlight darkly but didn't pull away when she moved to shine the blinding light across his eyes. "You mean besides a sudden headache?" he asked sarcastically.

She at least had the decency to look apologetic as she slipped the torture device away. "Yes, besides that," she encouraged, pressing two fingers against the inside of his wrist.

"Fine," he responded automatically. He wasn't in the habit of acknowledging every ache and pain. Injuries were a natural part of hunting; he and Sam were both relatively used to it by now so they worked around them and finished the job. "Can I get some clothes?" he asked a second later, once again not seeing his clothes lying within easy reach.

Dr. Fraiser was studying him intently. "I'll get you something in a minute," she told him after a long moment. "But you should be resting right now."

"We've got a demon to take care of," Dean pointed out though it should have been obvious.

"You suffered a concussion," Janet was quick to return.

Dean offered her a disarming smile. "Not the first time," he said in an attempt to brush the matter aside.

"All the more reason you should be taking it easy," the doctor pointed out firmly.

"No heavily lifting," Dean agreed tone completely serious. "I promise."

Janet didn't look the least bit impressed by his flip attitude but after a stern look relented. "Alright, finish your food; I'll go get your clothes."

Dean watched her leave before glancing back down at what was left of his sandwich and saw the sketchbook still clasped in Sam's hands. "There's something else isn't there?" he asked looking up at Sam.

His brother blinked in surprise. "What makes you say that?"

"'Cause I know you Sammy, you've got that broody emo look going," he pointed out before eating a little more of his meal.

"Do not," Sam said indignantly, only serving to make Dean smirk.

"Hate to break it to you but you do," Dean said completely unapologetic.

"Whatever," Sam brushed the matter aside with a shake of his head and opened the sketchbook. "I missed this the first time through," he said flipping to the last page.

Dean looked down at the sketch, clearly a work in progress. Green eyes narrowed as he worked to make sense of the loosely drawn lines, some of them beginning to take clear shape other still completely up in the air. "That isn't…" he began feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Yeah pretty sure it is," the younger hunter confirmed darkly.

"This girl's nuts," Dean said bluntly. "Why would anyone want to draw their own death?"

Sam shrugged clearly having no answer, not that Dean expected him to. Dr. Fraiser walked back into the room and Sam quickly reached for the sketchbook, closing it sharply before placing it on the bed behind him. The doctor came back over to Dean's side putting his folded clothes down on the mattress near his calf. "I don't want to see you back in here bleeding again," she warned, taking his right hand so she could remove the IV.

"I'll do my best," he told her honestly.

She nodded but her expression said it all: she'd believe it when she saw it. "From what I understand from last night, when you take the artifact out of the case the demon will reappear." Janet didn't sound the least bit pleased. "How do you plan to stay safe?"

Dean wasn't surprised that was the doctor's first concern and he glanced to Sam. He had a few ideas himself but Sam had had more time to think about it, he was interested to see what his brother might have come up with.

"We should be able to trap the demon in a devil's trap," Sam told her as Dean slid to the edge of the hospital bed and began to pull on his jeans.

"Couldn't you just leave it inside the salt?" Janet asked then.

The older Winchester bit down on his lip, forcing himself to breathe through the pain of stiff muscles, bruised ribs and fresh stitches. "That may not be a permanent fix," he supplied, voice betraying him by sounding thin.

"What would be?"

"Simple answer: killing the demon," Sam said, making his way around the bed. "But finding out how to kill it, that's the problem…"

His brother trailed off and Dean became painfully aware of two sets of eyes watching him closely as he worked to carefully pull the shirt provided over his head. He wasn't about to give either of them anything to worry over. He'd suffered worse injuries before and other than the pain and stiffness he was fine. And he was determined to prove it.

"Isn't there one surefire way?" Dr. Fraise asked after a moment.

"Yeah," Dean said bluntly, pulling the black shirt down to his jeans. "But we don't have it anymore," he didn't try to fight the bitter tone from entering his voice; nothing would make the Colt a pleasant subject.

Dean sat back down on the edge of the bed, turning his focus to pulling on his boots. When he looked back up, Sam was standing close by, a flannel shirt held out in his right hand. Dean accepted it, carefully pulling the warm shirt on. "Where're the Colonel and the others?" he asked, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen.

"Daniel and Sam are more than likely in either of their labs. I believe Colonel O'Neill told me the artifact was being kept in Sam's, I can bring you up there," she offered, the black sling appearing in her hands.

"No," Dean said suddenly. "Not that again."

"Yes, that again," Janet was quick to counter, moving to slip it over his head. "I'm not going to have you tearing those stitches again."

Dean bit down on a sigh. "Didn't work last night."

"You weren't wearing it last night," she pointed out far too calmly as she tightened the strap.

The hunter rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't have done much good if I had," he couldn't help but state flatly.

Janet offered him a cool smile. "We'll never know now, will we?"

---SPN/SG-1---

The phone on the corner of Jack's desk rang suddenly and he was more than happy for the distraction from reviewing the mission report from SG-3. Picking up the receiver, Jack leaned back in his chair. "O'Neill," he said.

"_Sir,_" Sam's voice spoke over the line.

"Carter, tell me you've got good news," Jack said, tossing the file on top of the pile.

"_Yes, sir,_" she replied immediately. "_Dr. Fraiser just brought the Winchesters up to my office, we're ready to get to work._"

"About time," he groused, pushing his chair back form the desk. "How's Dean?" he asked as nearly an afterthought. Jack had looked in on the kid once in the morning but he'd still been completely out of it.

"_He seems fine, sir._"

The Colonel breathed a short sigh of relief. "Alright, I'll be right down," Jack said before returning the phone to its cradle. He strode from his office without looking back and fished his keycard from his pocket before reaching the elevator. His short ride to the nineteenth floor was halted briefly as the elevator doors slid aside to reveal Daniel waiting patiently on the other side.

"Daniel," he greeted, noting the stacks of folders and loose papers the archeologist carried in his arms. "Any luck tracking this demon down?" With nothing better to do while they waited for Dean to wake, Jack knew Daniel had gone back to what little they already had on the artifact and began over looking it all again.

"Unfortunately, no," he admitted, shifting through his notes absently. "Although the night vision image they managed to get is clearer than anything else out there, it's just not enough for a positive identification."

Jack stared at his friend for a moment. "Well, that sucks," he said bluntly as the elevator doors opened. Together they walked down grey corridors to Carter's lab only to hear the distinct sound of voices raised in anger.

"Absolutely not!" Janet's voice carried out of the lab, her no nonsense attitude all too familiar to Jack.

"We know what we're doing," Sam Winchester responded in a calming voice as Jack and Daniel stepped inside the crowded lab. Teal'c nodded a greeting to the Colonel as Jack passed, his expression stoic as always despite the fire storm going on around him.

Dr. Fraiser shook her head. "You're suggesting using yourselves as bait."

Jack's attention moved to Dean who subtly rolled his eyes before stepping in front of his younger brother. "Look, it wouldn't be the first time," he said and Jack knew that wasn't going to help the situation.

Sure enough, Janet opened her mouth to respond. "What's going on?" the Colonel asked lightly, casting his gaze over everyone in the room.

"Sir, before we take the artifact out of the box we need to secure the demon," Captain Carter explained from where she stood at her desk with the salt filed case at her elbow.

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" he directed this question to the Winchesters.

"We're going to use a devil's trap," Sam explained, passing an opened book to Jack and indicated the black and white picture. "Once the demon's inside it won't be able to get out, unless someone breaks the trap."

Jack stared at the odd symbols for a moment with Daniel leaning over his shoulder to study them as well. "And you're sure this'll work?" he asked dubiously.

"Positive," Dean told him firmly as he leaned back against the countertop.

"I don't see a problem so far," Jack said looking to Dr. Fraiser.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, an expression O'Neill recognized all too well. "That's because neither of them have told you how they plan to get the demon inside the trap."

Dean sighed audibly but simply looked away when Sam shot his brother a warning look. "Look, for obvious reason we don't know where the demon will appear when we take the artifact out. So we can't just assume it'll appear inside the trap."

"Then how exactly do you plan on getting it inside?" Daniel asked curiously.

"Even a person being possessed by a demon can be tricked; it's even easier with a creature that's reacting on base instincts," the younger hunter explained.

The Colonel eyed the Winchesters with a raised brow; he knew they were dancing around the actual problem at hand and was getting a little impatient for a straight answer. Dean caught his eye and held his gaze for a moment before releasing a huffed breath.

"Alright, best bet," Dean said sharply. "We put the devil's trap on the ceiling of a storage room or one of your holding cells; release the demon with a target insight and it should walk straight into it."

"Dean's suggesting using himself as the target," Fraiser pointed out darkly.

"The demon's already come at me twice," Dean replied, shrugging his right shoulder.

"And I had to patch you up both times," Janet pointed out immediately, rounding on the hunter. "I thought we agreed when I released you that it wasn't going to happen again."

"It won't," Dean said firmly but Jack could tell Winchester wasn't positive of that fact.

Daniel stepped forward, placing his papers down on the counter. "What other options are there?"

"We could find a soldier with a Native American background and put him in the room," Dean said dryly, "but he's going to be less safe than if I do it myself."

Jack eyed the kid critically. Dean's face was pale, dark bruising smudging the skin under his eyes but he appeared completely alert and ready. Other than the sling Janet had some how managed to get back on him, there were no outward signs that Dean had been injured the day before. "How sure are you that this will work?" he asked folding his arms across his chest. He didn't particularly like having to take anything on blind faith.

"Hundred percent," Dean answered immediately.

Sam shot his brother another look. "More like eighty-five," the younger Winchester corrected.

"Fine," Dean huffed with a sigh. "Ninety-five," he pushed off the countertop and looked Jack directly in the eyes. "But once the demon's trapped you won't have anything to worry about and I know I can piss it off enough for it to attack me."

"I don't doubt that," Colonel O'Neill replied with a brief smirk.

"Sir," Dr. Fraiser spoke up suddenly, "there's got to be a safer way to do this."

"We're going to take a lot of precautions," Sam pointed out sincerely but Jack knew what Janet's problem was. The Winchesters ideas of '_precautions_' didn't sound like they'd do much of anything; it was hard to believe that a simple line of salt could stop a demon in its tracks.

Jack drew in a breath. "Alright, we'll use the storage room just down the hall." He offered Janet an apologetic look. "I don't see that we have all that many options, Doc. What supplies do you boys need?"

"Salt," Dean answered quickly. "Lots of salt."

"And uh, paint or chalk," Sam added, "for the devil's trap."

"Chalk?" Daniel asked dubiously. "Couldn't the demon just rub the marking out?"

Sam shook his head. "No they're powerless to destroy it so long as they're inside the trap."

Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow at that, finding it a little hard to believe that symbols written in chalk of all things could contain a demon. "Seriously?" he couldn't stop the disbelieving question.

Dean took a step towards him cocky smile plastered on his pale face. "Seriously," he confirmed, right hand shifting to hold his left elbow through the sling. "We've done this a couple of times before."

"Carter, get Sam what he needs," O'Neill ordered with a shake of his head.

"Yes sir," she said with a quick nod. "Come with me," she bade, leading Sam from the room.

"Teal'c, give them a hand will you?" Jack said, drawing a quiet nod from the Jaffa before he followed Carter and Sam from the room.

Dr. Fraiser took a step forward, casting a serious expression first on Dean then Jack. "Sir, I intend to remain on hand," she began firmly. "In case anything should go wrong."

"Right," Jack couldn't deny the prudence in that. "Have your medical team on standby."

She gave Dean one more stern look before turning to leave Carter's lab.

"I take it she's always like this," Dean didn't bother to make it a question.

"Oh yeah," O'Neill drawled, casting a quick look at Daniel who was shifting through his notes absently.

"Where did my duffle go after we got back on base?" the hunter asked then, right hand brushing across the top of his head.

Jack actually had to think about that for a second, they'd been in quite a rush getting Dean to the infirmary. "Should be in the secondary armory," he replied finally, having a clear memory of passing the weapons off to Teal'c to secure.

"We're going to need them," Dean said, shifting the strap of the sling without seeming to notice.

"Right," the Colonel nodded once, leading the hunter from the room.

---SPN/SG-1---

Sam put down the thick piece of white chalk and glanced back up to the ceiling where he'd finished the large devil's trap. He'd decided to be safe, to take the time to draw out the Key of Solomon; he wasn't about to take any chances that the demon might break free, despite Colonel O'Neill's impatience. Dusting off his hands, Sam rolled shoulders that were stiff from keeping his arms held above his head and turned to see Dean leaning against the door jam.

"Ready?" he asked, green eyes looking up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, I think so."

"You think?" Jack spoke up, coming up behind Dean to also view Sam's handy work.

The hunter shrugged, lips twitching upwards into a ghost of a smirk. "Ready as we'll ever be," he confirmed with a nod.

"Alright," Dean breathed, stepping inside the storage room. He carried his double barrel shotgun tightly in his right hand.

Sam was about as thrilled as Dr. Fraiser to be using Dean as bait to snare the demon but, unlike the good doctor, Sam knew it was their best option. Janet had been keeping a careful eye on the older Winchester since releasing him from the infirmary, much to Dean's dismay. Janet had already intercepted two attempts on Dean's part to secure a much '_needed_' cup of coffee, replacing the dark brew with a bottle of water instead. Sam hadn't bothered to hide his amusement despite his brother's glares. It was nice to know someone was watching out for Dean besides himself.

Dean made his way to the far side of the room, leaning his back calmly against the cement wall before giving Sam a curt nod. "Do it," he ordered, shifting his stance and his grip on the gun.

The younger Winchester stepped out into the corridor. A good chunk of the hall had been cordoned off with thick lines of salt; they didn't want to give the demon anywhere to go but exactly where they wanted it. Sam glanced to either side, seeing the medical personal to his right while SG-1 stood off to the left. The case containing the artifact already waited in the center of the hall, their battered duffel resting next to it. Reaching inside, Sam removed his own shotgun, placing it within easy reach before opening the latches on the case.

"Dude, any time now," Dean barked impatiently.

Flipping open the lid, Sam plunged his left hand into the salt, feeling around for the artifact. Long fingers closed around the small box and he pulled it from its prison, placing it immediately on the floor. Sam got to his feet quickly, shotgun held at the ready before crossing outside the line of salt. He wasn't a fan of not being able to see Dean but he waited, albeit impatiently for the demon to appear.

"What's taking so long?" Jack demanded, glancing none too subtly at his wrist watch.

"Give it a minute," Sam replied just as the lights in the hall began to flicker in warning.

The demon materialized out of the shadows a minute later, its piercing screech reverberating sharply across the hall. "C'mon, you son of a bitch," Dean's taunt was punctuated sharply by a blast of rock salt.

The demon screamed in rage, rushing the room just like Sam and Dean had predicted it would. Sam moved quickly behind it, tossing his shotgun to Jack while he grabbed up the case and dumped a thick line of salt across the storage room door. They couldn't be too careful.

Looking up from the salt, Sam was relieved to see the demon trapped within the Key of Solomon. Its shadowed body rippled, the darkness of its existence seeming only to grow deeper as it clawed futilely to be free. Dean was smirking as he stepped away from the wall. "Gotcha," he taunted making his way over to the door.

SG-1 crowded in behind Sam; Captain Carter, Dr. Jackson and Teal'c actually stepped inside the storage room to get a good long look at the demon. Jack leaned against the door frame for a moment before crouching down to scoop up a handful on the rock salt which lined the floor. "Easy as that huh?" he asked dryly, picking a single piece of salt from the palm of his hand.

Sam watched in surprised amusement as the Air Force Colonel proceeded to flick that large salt crystal at the trapped demon; a second before he selected another piece to do the same. The demon hissed in warning, blood red eyes glowing out of a pitch black face.

---SPN/SG-1---

Daniel stood near the door to the storage room, deep blue eyes shifting between the stalking demon and the Key of Solomon Sam had drawn on the ceiling. Several hours had passed since they'd trapped the demon and Daniel kept finding himself drawn back to the room. He was fascinated by the power these symbols held over the creature; there was no visible force field holding the demon back from attacking but try as it might it couldn't make it past the outer edge of the circle.

The demon made a frustrated lunged at Daniel, not for the first time, and he still had to fight the urge to flinch away. No amount of light in the room could seem to penetrate the rippling blankness that was the demon. Its red eyes bore into him, appearing completely animalistic; Daniel wondered at the possible intelligence of the creature.

Stepping inside the room, Daniel made his way slowly around the outer edge of the devil's trap, watching as the demon followed his movements carefully. He felt the demon's eyes carefully following his every move and he thought for a second like there might have been something more there beyond blind rage.

"Can you speak?" he asked suddenly, coming to a stop so he was facing the demon.

The creature snarled a warning.

That was no clear indication one way or the other. "No, probably not…" he conceded slowly. "But you are intelligent."

"Daniel," Jack's voice spoke up from the door. "Whatcha doing?" he asked in that sarcastically curious way only O'Neill could.

"Attempting to communicate with the demon," he replied as though it should have been obvious.

Jack stepped inside the room, eyebrows creeping up on his forehead. "Why?"

Daniel blinked for a minute, confused by the question. "Why?" he repeated. "To learn of course."

"Ah," was Jack's sarcastic reply. It amazed Daniel how those two letters could say so much coming from the Colonel. "What are you hoping to learn?" Jack continued eyeing the demon. "How best to kill people?"

The archeologist rolled his eyes. "You're going to tell me you're not the least bit interested in what might be in our afterlife?" Daniel had researched hundreds of religions during his studies, all with their own unique take on the afterlife, both heaven and hell. He hadn't given too much thought to what might actually await him until now.

"Nope," Jack quipped simply. "Mystery of life and all that, I don't want to spoil the end."

Daniel didn't fight the amusement he felt at Jack's answer; it was after all just what he'd expected from his friend. "Well I'd at least like to know why it kills," Daniel said returning his attention to the creature.

"It kills, because that's all it knows how to do," Dean's deep timber elicited a growl from the demon as the hunted walked into the storage room.

"Have you ever actually asked?" Daniel asked curiously.

"No," Dean replied simply.

"When demons do talk, it's usually only out of one side of their mouth," Sam added, coming up behind his brother. "Captain Carter thinks she's found something," he announced.

Daniel stepped immediately towards the door. When he'd left Carter she'd been attempting to run a few detailed scans on the artifact, though none of them were expecting any decent results. The small box was simply producing too much EMF interference to get any clear readings. Walking into Sam's lab Daniel saw the artifact resting on the center of the counter and moved towards it.

"What've you got, Carter?" Jack asked, slapping his hands together briskly.

The archeologist lifted the box into his hands and turned it over slowly trying to study it. He was forced to look away with a pained wince after only a few seconds. It felt like his eyes wanted to continually slide away from the artifact rather than focus on it, so it took a conscious effort to keep looking at it.

"Well sir, most of the scans were useless like we suspected. We can't get any clear readings with the equipment because of the elector magnetic interference," the Captain began.

"Not what we don't have," Jack said with a sigh.

Daniel stepped over to a magnify glass and switched on the light before slipping the artifact beneath it. The fingers on his right hand felt along the top edge, feeling more than seeing the edge of what he could only assume was a lid.

"Of course, sir," Sam said quickly. "I ran an analysis of the artifact and found that it was made of dentine."

"Something of this size was more than likely carved from a tusk," Daniel mused, looking up at the rest of the people in the room.

"Tusk?" Dean asked surprised, "What, like from an elephant?"

"Possibly," Carter confirmed.

"Though how it ended up in this mass grave in the middle of Colorado…" the archeologist trailed off as it suddenly occurred to Daniel how he might best be able to see the symbols on the artifact. Moving the magnify glass aside, Daniel put the artifact down quickly reaching for a piece of paper. "Sam, have you got charcoal or a pencil?"

"Daniel," Jack spoke his name with extreme patience, "care to share with the rest of the class?"

"Uh, high tech isn't working for us right?" he began, accepting a sharpened pencil from physicist. "So why not go low tech?" Daniel scrubbed the tip of the pencil across the surface of the paper producing a clear rubbing of the symbol on the box.

---SPN/SG-1---

Dean opened his eyes to stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling. The room was dark around him, only the light from the hall creeping under the door offered any sort of illumination. He and Sam had been escorted to the guest quarters late in the evening after Dr. Fraiser had appeared to call an end to the day. He wondered briefly what rank she had within the Air Force that she could order around Colonel O'Neill without concern. But he supposed it had more to do with her position as Chief Medical Officer than anything else. Dean had just been relieved he wasn't being forced to stay in the infirmary for another night.

Shifting on the large bed elicited a hiss of pain and Dean forced his body to relax back against the mattress. What sleep he'd managed to get had given his muscles a chance to stiffen up on him again. He listened for a moment to the sound of Sam's deep even breaths from across the room and knew his brother was still fast asleep.

Dean was a little surprised that Sam had found sleep so quickly. His brother had been completely engrossed in studying the symbols Daniel had managed to pull from the artifact. Dean was a little amused it had taken so many intelligent people to come up with the very simple idea of charcoal rubbings. But it had produced an amazing find. What Dean had originally thought was simply one symbol had actually turned out to be several smaller ones. With the way the artifact messed with the eyes it had been impossible to see on its own.

Drawing a quick breath, Dean forced himself into a sitting position, biting his lip to contain a groan. A digital clock on the nightstand proclaimed it to be 6:30 AM and despite the early hour Dean knew he wouldn't be getting back to sleep. He fumbled in the dark for his jeans which he'd left draped over the end of the bed. Dean dressed as quickly as stiff muscles would allow, feeling the knots begin to loosen as the blood flowed; the only downside, it caused the pain in his shoulder and chest to flare noticeably. He reached for the bottle of pills in his pocket as he opened to door to the room.

"Sir?" one of the guards stationed outside their room spoke up immediately.

Dean squinted against the bright lights in the hall and quickly pulled the door closed behind him. "Mind taking me up to Dr. Jackson lab?" he asked popping two pills into his mouth and dry swallowing them. The Marine looked a little unsure at the request. Dean could understand why: their presence on the base clearly wasn't normal and their status among base personal still appeared to be up in the air, so he decided to make it easier for the man. "He called asked me to give him a hand." Lying was after all second nature to Dean.

"Right this way, sir" the officer said stepping down the grey hall.

'_Sir._' Hearing that term in regards to himself made Dean smirk every time. It just didn't seem to fit unless he was playing at being in a position of authority, something he clearly didn't have within the walls of the SGC. He watched as the Marine swiped his keycard through the reader at the elevator before motioning him to step inside first. Dean had made a point to remember where everything was within the base; with the grey corridors and even the paint marked floors it could all end up looking the exact same.

Dean leaned back against the wall of the elevator and adjusted the position of the sling's strap across his shoulder. He was a little surprised that he'd decided to put it back on that morning and told himself firmly that it wasn't for fear of incurring Dr. Fraiser wrath; it was noticeably less painful than letting his arm rest normally.

Stepping out on the eighteenth floor, Dean once again followed the soldier down the near empty halls. Dean didn't think the base ever actually slept but this was still clearly a quiet time. As they approached the opened door to Daniel's lab, Dean held his breath hoping the archeologist might actually be in. He had a strong feeling that Daniel wouldn't be able to stay away from the research for long and was relieved to see the man seated at his desk.

He rapped his knuckles lightly against the door before stepping inside, drawing Daniel's sharp blue eyes to him a second later. "Dean," he said surprised. "What time is it?"

"Early," Dean replied not bothering to hide the disgust from his voice.

"Couldn't sleep?" the archeologist asked with a rueful smirk.

"Clearly not the only one," Dean returned with a smirk of his own. He drew in a breath his senses suddenly sharpening. "Is that coffee I smell?" he asked, mouth already watering at the thought.

Daniel laughed. "Help yourself. I'll deny any knowledge if Janet asks."

Dean moved like a moth to flame over to Daniel's personal coffeemaker and quickly poured himself a cup, choosing to drink it black as that was quickest. "So," he asked after a few slow sips. "What have you found?"

"Well," Daniel said turned away from his desk, "I think it's a form of Inuit language."

"Seriously?" he asked, eyebrows coming together in surprise.

Daniel nodded getting to his feet and stepped over to a chalk board where he'd carefully drawn out the symbols in neat rows. "It would make sense considering the artifact is made out of a tusk, more than likely a walrus or narwhal," he explained, pointing to the small box resting on the center of the table.

"Kind of far from home isn't it?" Dean's green eyes swept over the black board before returning to Daniel.

"A little," the archeologist agreed. "But it makes more sense than the box coming for some African tribe."

There was no denying that. Dean hadn't done a great deal of studying on Native American tribes, just what little was covered in school, and he knew there was a lot he didn't know. Perhaps at one time there had been a trade rout between the two nations. "At least if the box is Inuit that gives us a place to look for demons," he mused.

"There's still more than a dozen possibilities," Daniel said, removing his glasses to dust them off with the hem of his shirt.

"Do you have a list?" he asked, glancing about the cluttered room.

"Uh, yeah," Daniel said absently, stepping back over to his desk.

Dean accepted the piece of paper, quickly reading over the list of Inuit creatures and spirits; nothing jumped out at him until Dean reached Kigatilik. That name stirred a memory within him but faded before he could catch hold of it. "I've seen that name before…" he muttered to himself, repeating it again and again in his mind.

"Which one?" Daniel asked curiously.

"Kigatilik," Dean replied, tipping his head back as he sought the memory again. "Where have I heard that name?"

The other man began sifting through papers and books on his desk. "I think it might be from your dad's journal," he said, producing the battered book from beneath a pile of loose papers.

The memory rose to the surface and Dean nodded in satisfaction. "It was a hellspawn, he'd been hunting in California," Dean remembered the brief note in John's journal clearly now. "He believed it was a demon, one of the Claw People. In his research he turned up a possible connection to a little known demon called Kigatilik."

"You think that's what we've got trapped in the other room?" Daniel asked, though his attention was on John's journal as he flipped to the desired entry.

"Definitely seem to fit," Dean confirmed. "What little my dad was able to find on the Kigatilik said they were vicious killers."

Daniel put aside the journal and returned to his desk, fingers dancing over the keys of his computer as he searched out information on the demon. Reaching out with his right hand, Dean picked up his dad's journal and pulled it back to him running his thumb across the warn leather.

"It says here that the Kigatilik is especially known for killing shaman," Daniel read aloud.

"Could be how it all started," the hunter mused, leaning against the countertop. "A couple hundred years trapped in the dirt could widen any grudge."

"Does knowing what the demon is give you a better idea of how to destroy it?" he asked curiously.

"It'll definitely help," Dean confirmed.

The archeologist turned in his seat to regard Dean. "I discovered another symbol, different from the others on the bottom of the artifact," he said reaching across his desk for one of the charcoal rubbings he'd made the day before. "I wondered what you could make of it."

Dean took the paper, green eyes focusing in on symbol which was immediately familiar to him. "Ah fuck…" he muttered with a sigh.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	13. Chapter 13a

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: Due to the exceptionally long delay in completion of this chapter '_many apologies_' I've decided to break this finale chapter into two parts. It's my hope that posting this first half will help me feel less anxious about how long this is taking me and I'll be able to finish writing without rushing the ending! Calling it 13a is simply to keep me from lying when I predicted it would be 13 chapters =P

I hope you all enjoy! And thank you for your patience!

Thanks to **The Cleric 007** for the edit!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from either Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 13A**

Dean released a frustrated breath, turning the slip of paper one way and then another, trying to see the symbol in any other light than what he'd first glimpsed.

"That doesn't sound promising," Daniel commented slowly, leaning his hip against the table so he could look at the charcoal rubbing.

The hunter tossed the paper aside, reaching for the artifact instead. "Did you find any traces of blood on the artifact?" he asked, turning the small box over in his hands to try and get a first hand look at the engraving.

"Uh…" The archeologist turned away from the table beginning a search for the file.

Dean winced at the strain looking at the artifact caused his eyes; he was fairly sure he could make out a hint of dried blood in the carved symbol. He shifted the box to his left hand, rubbing the awkward feeling from his eyes before looking to Dr. Jackson. "Anything?" he asked somewhat impatiently.

"Here it is," Daniel exclaimed triumphantly as he pulled the file from beneath a pile of books and other papers. "Let's see." He opened the folder quickly flipping through several pages. "Um…yes, Sam did find minute traces of blood on both the lip of the box and the bottom. I take it that means something to you?" he asked looking up at Dean.

"Yeah," Dean growled, slamming the box against the table.

"Whoa, hey!" the archeologist squawked, dropping the file so he could pick up the box, examining it in the light for damage.

Dean smirked a little at the man's reaction, despite the knowledge of just how screwed they were. "Don't worry," he said dismissively, "you can't break it."

"Because of this symbol?" Daniel asked, adjusting his glasses as he squinted down at the artifact.

"More than likely," he said, pulling his right hand down his jaw as green eyes sought out the charcoal rubbing yet again. Dean was still hopeful that his initial conclusion was wrong but he knew he was going to have to confirm. "I need to get Sam up here," he muttered, more to himself, while fishing his cell from his front pocket.

---SPN/SG-1---

Sam woke to the persistent sound of a phone ringing and reached blindly for the annoying device. "Hello?" he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"_Rise and shine, Sammy_," Dean's voice rumbled in his ear.

"Dean?" Sam said confused, shifting on the bed he switched on the lamp brown eyes immediately going to the other bed. "Where are you?" he asked more awake now.

"_Daniel's lab_."

Sam pulled a hand down his face, still trying to shrug off the last residue of sleep. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"_I've only been up half hour myself,_" Dean said in a dismissive tone. "_Look, we've got a problem,_" he continued after a beat.

"What is it?" he asked, not sure what to expect but already preparing himself for the worst.

"_Daniel found another symbol on the artifact,_" his brother began, the rough timber to his voice betraying his concern. "_I'm pretty sure it's a Blood Seal._"

The younger hunter blinked several times, trying to pull the memory from his still sluggish brain. "What, like the cursed box in Massachusetts?" he asked back.

"_It's pretty damn similar,_" Dean confirmed with a frustrated sigh.

"Damnit." Sam shifted to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over the side. "I'll be up in ten minutes," he said before dropping the phone. Reaching for his jeans, Sam shook his head. "This isn't good."

He clearly remembered the hunt in that small seaside town and the lengths they'd had to go in order to destroy the box. They'd first believed that they were dealing with a similarly cursed object, like the painting from New Paitz; however, after burning the bones of one Angus Lee, the 'unexplained' murders continued.

Slipping his feet into shoes, Sam got up from the bed and shrugged into his over shirt as he walked to the door. A Marine guard turned as he exited the room and Sam offered him a slightly awkward nod as a greeting.

"Morning, sir," the guard greeted with a curt nod of his own. "Dr. Jackson lab?" he asked a second later.

"Uh, yeah," Sam replied lamely, not sure what he thought of the armed escort that followed him and Dean all over the base.

As Sam silently followed the Marine, he let his thoughts wandered back to the hunt in Massachusetts, easily able to picture the simple curves of the blood seal cut sharply with bisecting lines. He'd wondered about the odd symbol when he and Dean had pinpointed the simple wood box as the one constant in all the murders. Neither he nor Dean had known what it was at the time.

They'd done their research, discovering, with a little help from Bobby, that a simple cleansing ritual would end the curse, finally allowing Angus' soul to rest in peace. Or so they had thought. When even that hadn't worked they'd finally poured more of their time and attention into that strange symbol.

Sam smirked to himself as he leaned back in the elevator, remembering Singer's reaction when they'd finally told him about the blood seal: he'd called them a couple of idiots for not telling him about it sooner. Apparently he'd known about blood seals for years and they were always, _always_, a pain in the neck to deal with. It was bad enough trying to track down these various cursed items and just seal them away if not cleanse them. But so long as the item was sealed with blood, nothing could destroy it, not until you'd broken the seal itself.

It was a two part process, breaking a blood seal: the first required the blood of a victim of the curse. This hadn't been hard for them to find. The second was much more difficult and possibly, in their present situation, down right impossible. They needed blood from the line that had originally created the seal. Without both of those, not even Bobby was aware of any other way to destroy the seal.

"Sir?"

The hunter looked up to see the Marine standing half in, half out of the elevator, clearly waiting for the hunter to follow him out onto the eighteenth floor. "Right, sorry," he muttered, following the soldier into the hall.

"Can I ask you something, sir?" the man asked after a moment, glancing quickly at Sam before looking ahead again.

"Only if you stop calling me sir," he replied with a smile. "It's Sam."

"Tom," he replied with a grin of his own.

Sam extended his hand to the Marine, receiving a firm shake. "What do you want to know?"

"With what you and your brother know," he began tone hard to read, "can you even enjoy horror films?"

Sam chuckled at the question; he didn't know what he'd been expecting but that wasn't it. "Dean still loves the classics."

Tom eyed him for a moment. "I guess you don't watch them for the scare factor," he continued with a crooked grin.

"More like for laughter," Sam agreed, smirking as he remembered one of the more recent titles he and Dean had stopped to watch. "So, is it the same for you with alien movies?" he asked as Tom came to a stop outside Dr. Jackson lab.

"Not so much…" he admitted slowly. "Considering what I've seen working here, they're not so far off the mark."

Sam's brow furrowed at the admission, unable to forget the mission reports he'd read. At the time he'd found them hard to believe but his eyes had been opened, just as he and Dean had done for the SGC. There was a lot more threatening Earth than either side had realized. Sam accepted Tom's hand in another friendly shake, feeling a little better about his escort now that he'd spoken to him.

Stepping inside the office, Sam's hazel eyes immediately landed on his brother and Daniel. The archeologist was seated at his computer, Dean watching from over his right shoulder.

"Where is it?" he asked, coming up behind his brother.

Dean glanced over his shoulder and passed Sam the paper with his good arm. "Tell me I saw that wrong," he almost pleaded and Sam didn't miss the set of his brother's jaw, a clear indication—at least to him—that Dean was in pain.

Sam looked down at the piece of paper. "No," he sighed, "that's definitely a blood seal. Have you put in a call to Bobby?" he asked still studying the lines of the charcoal rubbing.

"Why?" Dean scoffed immediately. "So he can tell us what we already know?"

"Yeah…" Sam agreed softly, attention shifting to the computer screen. "What are you doing?" he asked then, curious about what could have Daniel so interested.

The older Winchester leaned back in his seat, tipping his head back so he was eyeing his brother. "I told Daniel about blood seals. He's more of a geek than you," he smirked, "and started doing his own research immediately."

"Hasn't found anything new, has he?" Sam asked a little hopeful.

Dean shifted in his seat unable to stifle a groan. "You think our luck's changed?"

Sam glanced again at the archeologist, who appeared to be completely oblivious to the room around him, before returning to Dean. "You have your meds?" he asked, glancing around the room for water or something Dean could take them with.

"Already took them, Sammy," Dean said with an annoyed sigh. "I'm fine," he added, twisting his chair around to look directly at his brother.

"Yeah, you definitely look it," Sam returned sarcastically.

Dean replied with a single finger before getting to his feet to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee. "You want a cup?" Dean asked, holding out a mug to Sam.

One breath of the strong aroma was all Sam needed to decide; he accepted the cup, quickly taking a sip. "So now what do we do?"

"No idea."

---SPN/SG-1---

It was a little past noon when General Hammond called for a briefing on the demon. Colonel O'Neill, Captain Carter, and Teal'c already knew what Dean and Daniel had uncovered that morning. It came as no surprise to Dean that all Daniel's resources hadn't been able to offer any new information about the blood seal; they were still euchred.

Dean eased himself down onto one of the leather chairs in the conference room, trying to make the movements fluid, knowing Sam had been watching him all morning. Once seated, Dean ducked his head and removed the sling, wondering if taking away the visual reminder might stop Sam's worrying. He didn't expect it to but it was worth a shot.

General Hammond took his seat at the head of the table. "What do we know?" he asked simply.

"We know that the demon is called Kigatilik, one of the People of the Claw," Daniel explained, the only one in the room who hadn't taken a seat yet. He stood at the base of the table, a projection screen against the wall. "Little is known about this kind of demon though we do know that it originated in the Inuit culture."

"Inuit?" Hammond repeated, clearly surprised.

"Our best guess," Daniel continued, as the lights in the room dimmed, "is that this artifact was a gift between tribes." As the archeologist spoke, images of the box appeared on the projection screen, including scanned images of the charcoal rubbings he'd made the day before.

Daniel turned to face the room. "The inscription on the four sides of the box reads 'Keeper of Mahaha heed this rede. Control and mercy must be his creed.'"

"Mahaha? Seriously?" Jack demanded; he was leaning against the table his head resting against his palm. Dean thought he almost looked bored and was pretty sure the Colonel didn't full comprehend just how screwed they were.

Dr. Jackson adjusted his glasses but didn't rise to Jack's bait. "Yet another name for the demon," he explained calmly. "My research has shown that the Kigatilik was most known for killing shaman and that, in times of war, possession of this demon would be a significant upper hand."

"Daniel Jackson, this demon has not been killing shaman," Teal'c pointed out, calmly watching his friend with a raised brow.

"No," Sam spoke up, leaning both elbows against the surface of the table. "It's possible that several hundred years being trapped in that grave has driven it mad."

"I've also taken into consideration that it might have been misused by the tribe it was gifted too," Daniel continued. "The inscription is a warning, to any who would mean to use the power of the Kigatilik, to use it wisely."

"Do we know why the demon kills the way it does?" Captain Carter asked.

"You mean taking part of the heart?" Dean asked back.

"Right," she nodded, looking around the room, "why not just kill the victims? Why would it take anything?"

"It was believed at one time that the heart was the seat of the human soul," Daniel began to explain, bouncing slightly on his toes as he spoke. "The symbol which referred to a person's spirituality, their emotions and even morality--"

"So what you're saying," Jack cut in quickly, "is that it's important."

Daniel sighed. "Yes Jack, it's an important organ."

"Are we any closer to killing this demon?" the General asked, bringing the conversation back to the problem at hand.

"There's a problem with that," Dean said, twisting his chair back towards the head of the table.

"On the bottom of the artifact, I found yet another symbol," Daniel said, clicking on a small remote in his hand to bring up a picture of the seal.

Hammond leaned towards the screen. "This isn't part of the inscription?"

Daniel shook his head. "No."

"It's called a Blood Seal," Sam picked up the explanation as the archeologist took his seat. "This very rare old world magic, Dean and I have only come across it once."

"What does it do?"

"Think of it like insurance," Dean supplied, reaching for the glass of water that stood near his right elbow.

"A blood seal is used to protect a cursed object from the usual cleansing rituals," his brother continued. "So long as this seal is on the artifact, nothing we do will destroy it or the demon."

"So what are our options?" the General asked to the entire room, though most of his attention was on Sam and Dean. "Obviously we need to break the seal," he added.

"Which is the problem," Daniel said slowly.

"You don't know how to break it?" Hammond guessed.

Dean shook his head. "Oh, we know how," he assured coolly.

"The problem is we only know of one way to do it and it requires two elements," Sam explained more fully. "We need the blood of a victim, which isn't hard to come by," he continued directing a hand at Dean. "The second half is much more difficult. We need blood from the lineage that originally created the seal."

Silence settled over the conference room for several long minutes as the gravity of their problem finally sunk in. Dean shifted uncomfortable in his seat but forced himself to wait for the General's logical next question. Thankfully, he wasn't made to wait long.

"There's no other way to break it?"

"None that we've been able to find," Sam confirmed.

"Can't we just leave the demon where it is?" O'Neill asked after a beat.

Dean shook his head immediately. "That's not a permanent solution. If something breaks the devil's trap, the killings are just going to start right back up again."

"What are our chances of finding someone of this lineage among Earth's population?" Hammond asked his attention shifting to Samantha Carter and Daniel.

They shared a brief glance. "Astronomically small, Sir. The population's too dispersed."

"There's also the problem of getting the members of the tribe to help us," Daniel pointed out speaking quickly. "Considering the way they've been treated over the years, they aren't exactly forth coming with their rituals and old ways."

Samantha nodded in agreement. "Maybe if we had several years…" she trailed of with a shrug.

Something in what Carter had said clearly got Daniel thinking as he began leafing through his files. "Did you carbon date the artifact?" he asked, blue eyes still searching his papers.

"Yes," she replied, "what are you thinking?"

Daniel pulled a page from the stack in front of him. "At least 1100 AD," he muttered to himself.

Dean shifted to the edge of his seat, forcing himself to sit a little straighter and finding the new position removed some of the pressure from his ribs. "Don't leave us hanging," he said, tapping his fingers against the table.

Daniel's expression began thoughtful as he leaned back in his chair, the slip of paper hanging loosely from his fingers. "What about P4X-495?" he finally suggested.

"What about it?" Jack was fast to return.

"The Gou'ald took people from all over Earth, enslaving them on different planets," Dr. Jackson said, looking at Sam and Dean. "It's possible we may be able to find a descendant of whoever created the seal."

"Does the line need to be direct?" Carter asked, looking across the table. "Father to son? Or would any relative from the initial line be enough?"

"If they're ultimately from the same bloodline that's all we need," Sam confirmed.

"Dr. Jackson, you're suggesting that the Natives of P4X-495 will have a direct relation to whoever created this seal?" General Hammond spoke up, his right hand gesturing towards the image still shining against the far wall.

"Yes," Daniel said, first quite simply but his quick intake in breath signaled much more to follow. "The Shaman of a tribe is considered the most valuable member, an almost supernatural being, the bringer of fortune and prosperity. In the smaller tribes it's not uncommon for all the members to be related, extended family units."

"And they didn't have a problem with incest?" Dean asked curiously.

Daniel shook his head. "No, the women of the tribes were traded in order to keep down inbreeding."

"I hope they were nicer about it than the Mongols," Samantha muttered, her expression briefly growing dark.

"What's your plan once the seal is broken?" the General asked.

Sam brushed a hand through his hair, seemingly without notice. "There are several cleansing rituals, one of which should work."

"The exorcism you tried when it first attacked might send it packing for good," Dean suggested, though he realized there was a strong possibility the Kigatilik was tied completely to the artifact.

"We may be able to better than that," Daniel spoke up thoughtfully. "Tiriaq may know best how to deal with this demon his ancestors summoned."

"I take it he's the Shaman of the tribe?" Sam asked curiously.

The archeologist nodded. "I've met with Tiriaq on several occasions, he'll be willing to help us," he said confidently.

"So," Jack said sharply, drawing the attention of the room. "All we need is some of Dean's blood and to bring the demon to P4X-495?"

"We'll need to go with you," the younger Winchester spoke up quickly. "Both blood from the victim and the caster needs to be fresh," he explained.

Dean maintained a blank expression as he glanced sideways at his little brother. Sam was lying as smoothly as ever, leaving Dean to wonder why? A single glance out the reinforced glass gave Dean his answer. He wasn't the least bit surprised that Sam wanted to step through the Stargate; they'd come this far why not go the whole way?

"No," Hammond shook his head. "We can't allow that."

"You won't be able to break the seal without Dean's blood," Sam told the General firmly, his tone implying clearly you couldn't have one Winchester without the other.

Dean watched the older man consider his options and, for Sam's sake, Dean hoped no one asked what they'd do if no victims were alive.

"Sir, I don't see that we have much choice," Captain Carter spoke up, folded hands resting against the table.

The older hunter dipped his head to conceal a tiny smirk. Apparently the complexity of a blood seal was strong enough to have them believing anything. He glanced back to the window seeing the top edge of the Stargate, unable to deny his own curiosity.

General Hammond turned his attention fully on Jack, "Colonel?"

Jack glanced down the table as he spoke. "Well sir, they've already signed the nondisclosure agreements," he drawled, head cocking to the side slightly as he eyed them both. "So long as they can _both_ follow the proper chain of command…" he left the statement hanging.

"Alright," Hammond spoke finally. "SG-1, you have a go."

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	14. Chapter 13b

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: So here I am with chapter 13b which I thought would be the final part of this chapter…as I'm not working on chapter 13c, I still haven't lied about the story being 13 chapters but there's still more to come. I didn't really any of you would mind the story going on a little longer. Please enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 13B**

O'Neil pushed his chair back from the conference table, getting to his feet sharply as General Hammond moved back towards his office. He glanced down the table at the rest of his team, also getting to their feet. "Teal'c, get Sam and Dean uniforms," he ordered, receiving a silent nod in response.

"What's wrong with what we're wearing now?" Dean asked, almost suppressing a wince as he stood.

"You'll draw less attention this way," Jack said, allowing his tone to say this wasn't a suggestion.

Teal'c stepped around the long table to stand in front of the Winchesters. "Come with me," he said solemnly.

The Colonel watched the boys follow the Jaffa from the room. Sam walked closely on his brother's heels, clearly wanting to be within reach in case Dean needed him. Jack couldn't see the older Winchester asking for help but he also hadn't missed the pain the hunter was trying to hide. O'Neill knew the deep ache of cracked ribs and also knew the concussion Dean had suffered wasn't doing him any favors. But all of that was out weighed by the look of determination Jack immediately recognized in the kid's eyes.

Dean had been raised by a former soldier and it showed more so than with Sam. He had his suspicions that had more to do with Dean's influence in his little brother's life than the differences in Sam's personality. The resourcefulness and discipline made them great at their jobs and, quite frankly, Jack wanted to see them keep at it. As hard as it might be to believe, Sam and Dean were defending Earth the only way they knew how.

Walking away from the table, Jack rapped lightly on the General's door, stepping inside the office a second later.

"Colonel?" Hammond said as he lowered himself onto his leather chair.

"Have you considered what to do with the Winchesters once this demon's taken care of?" he asked, coming to a stop in front of the desk.

The General drew in a breath. "They are carrying an impressive criminal record between the two of them."

"Most of which we know are misunderstandings," Jack pointed out. He didn't even consider the possibility of setting the Winchester's record straight; without the visual proof it was all just a little hard to believe.

"Misunderstandings," the General agreed, "that we can't afford to get mixed up in."

O'Neill dropped his hands down on the backrest of a chair. "I understand we can't clear their records," he began.

"Colonel," Hammond cut in, "I'm classifying what happened here, above top secret; I'd like to have to explain this to as few people as possible."

"And the Winchesters?"

"The official report will indicate that these two _very_ resourceful young men escaped," the General said and although his expression was serious Jack could see a light in his commander's eyes that he recognized.

Jack smirked with a slow nod of his head. "It's easier to get out than in."

"Precisely."

"Alright General, we should be ready to embark by 16:00," O'Neill said, straightening up sharply.

The Colonel left the office without another word, making his way towards the elevators and taking it to the twenty-fifth floor. He'd no sooner stepped out into the hall before he heard the fast pace of heeled shoes coming up behind him.

"Colonel O'Neill," Janet's voice called from a few feet down the hall

"Dr. Fraiser," he replied, swinging around to a lazy stop.

"I just heard you're taking the Winchesters off-world," she began, coming to an abrupt halt in front of him.

He offered her a tiny smile, little more than the corners of his lips quirking up. "News travels fast."

She folded her arms across her chest, never a good sign. "You don't think I should have been consulted first?"

Jack didn't fight the urge to sigh. "Doc, if you've heard then you know it's not negotiable."

"He's suffered a concussion," Janet pointed out, "he should still be resting."

"Is he healthy enough to walk?" Jack asked dryly which earned him a glare in response. "That's all either of them will be doing."

Janet eyed him for a moment, her expression stern. "I'll hold you to that, Colonel," she told him firmly.

"I'd expect nothing less," he assured her, attempting sincerity though he was pretty sure he'd failed by the expression on Janet's face. "We'll come see you after the mission." It didn't need to be said, as it was standard procedure for all returning teams, but it seemed to help as Janet nodded and walked away.

Turning back down the hall, Jack made his way to the locker room, finding the door stood open a crack. He pushed it the rest of the way and leaned his shoulder against the door frame. Dean glanced up from where he sat on the bench lacing his military issue boots; Sam had his back to the door as his shrugged into the green jacket.

"Teal'c," Jack greeted.

"O'Neill," the Jaffa returned with a nod. "We are ready," he announced already in his TAC vest, zat strapped to his thigh.

Jack regarded Dean as he got to his feet, using hands against his knees to push himself straight. "You up for this?" he asked despite himself, Janet's concern obviously bleeding through.

Dean scoffed at the question, his hands moving seemingly without thought to flip up the collar of his coat, leaving it undone. "This is nothing," he assured, forcing an easy shrug.

"Alright," Jack said, pushing himself off the door. "Secure the demon and meet in the gate room at 16:00."

---SPN/SG-1---

With a hiss of well-oiled gears, the steel bulkhead door pulled aside at Dean's approach and Teal'c led the way through. A klaxon sounded sharply over the loud rumble of the gate and orange warning lights flashed from below the emergency lights along the walls of the huge room. The hunter might have hesitated to enter the gate room if it wasn't for the fact that everyone else was acting as if nothing was happening.

"_Chevron 3 is encoded_," a voice announced over the PA system.

Glancing up to the observation room, Dean saw both the General and Colonel O'Neill standing on either side of a man seated at the computer. Emerald eyes swept over the room, taking in the finer details of the Stargate as the center wheel spun, causing another chevron to light.

"_Chevron 4 is encoded_," the man announced again.

"That must get boring after awhile," Dean commented to his brother, speaking directly into his ear to be heard over the racket.

Sam nodded, his lips quirking up in a smirk as he shifted the case containing the artifact higher on his shoulder.

Looking across the room, Dean saw Captain Carter and Daniel standing near the end of the ramp in full gear. Carter had a rifle attached to her vest and they both wore a Glock strapped to their thighs; Daniel also held an odd looking staff in his hand which he passed to Teal'c as soon as he was close. Sweeping his attention back up to Jack, Dean was a little concerned to see that he too was carrying weapons.

"This planet," he said, glancing briefly to the others before looking up at the gate, "It's friendly?"

"Yes?" Daniel replied, making it a question, clearly looking for more.

"The Gou'ald haven't inhabited P4X-495 for more than nine hundred years," Carter added.

"And you still bring weapons?" he asked pointedly, feeling naked without his silver knife at the very least.

"Standard off world procedure," Jack announced as he walked into the gate room.

"Care to extend the courtesy?" It was Sam who asked, obviously not as comfortable weaponless as he'd like Dean to believe.

O'Neill glanced over his shoulder towards Dean. "That won't be necessary," he drawled.

"_Chevron 7 is locked!_"

The different phrasing caught the hunter's attention and his eyes went immediately to the Stargate, waiting to see what would happen next. He'd read about the gate in the files Ash had hacked for them but no amount of reading could prepare him for the actual thing. Dean jumped despite himself as the gate suddenly emitted a deep whine and a geyser of boiling water rushed towards him. It pulled back almost a quickly, settling into a rippling pool of blue liquid. The 'Event Horizon'—he'd heard Carter refer to it as that—cast a shining blue glow across the room.

Vaguely Dean caught the amused expressions that SG-1 shared and Dean also noted the—no doubt similar—shocked expression on his brother's face. He figured they didn't get the opportunity all that often to watch a civilian see the gate for the first time. He attempted to subtly straighten himself, a low grunt escaping him as his ribs finally registered the movement and gasped breath. Holding his arm against his side, Dean looked up at the gate wondering what it would feel like to step through.

The sound of army boots on metal grating brought Dean out of his thoughts and he saw O'Neill, Carter, and Teal'c heading up the ramp to the gate. Sam took his first steps a second later and the older Winchester was easily able to read his brother's body language. Sam was excited about this.

Dean stepped onto the ramp; striding up the slight incline, he looked curiously at the wavering pool. With a sound that reminded Dean remarkably of a rock dropping into a pond, Jack and Teal'c stepped through, sending a wave of ripples bouncing off each other. Sam glanced over his shoulder, excitement clear in his hazel eyes a second before he too disappeared with an audible _splunk!_

Coming to a stop at the edge of the Event Horizon, Dean hesitated to reach out and actually touch the glowing blue water. Daniel came up beside him, putting his hand through the water with a smile. "Go ahead," he encouraged.

Dean regarded the archeologist for a moment where his hand disappeared inside the blue. "What's it feel like?" he asked curiously.

"Like nothing at all," he replied, pulling his hand back out.

"Do I even want to know how this really works?" he questioned skeptically.

Daniel raised a considering eyebrow at that. "Probably not…" he admitted slowly.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought." Swallowing hard, he put his hand through the 'water,' surprised when he really didn't feel anything at all. It was almost as though his hand no longer existed though his brain had no doubts it was actually there. "Huh," he muttered as he stepped through.

Coming out the other side a second later, Dean stumbled, his brain rushing to catch up with the sudden unexplained change. His body tensed in a desperate attempt to stop himself from falling down the stone steps and it would have happened if O'Neill's strong arm hadn't caught him. Dean groaned as his weight landed heavily against the arm across his chest.

"Woah there," Jack said, voice a little strained as he pulled Dean back towards the gate.

"Damn," the hunter coughed, shaking his head to clear it. Drawing in a slow shallow breath, Dean got his legs back under him just as the gate snapped shut behind him.

"Dean!" his brother's voice sounded worried. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Sammy," he growled, brushing away from O'Neill, embarrassed the travel had effected him at all.

"Take a minute," Carter warned coming back up the stone platform. "Traveling through the Stargate can leave your head feeling a little scrambled."

Dean released a frustrated breath. "I'm fine," he stated, perhaps a little _too_ defensively. "I just tripped," Dean regretted saying it immediately especially when he saw Sam smirk.

Clearing his throat sharply, Dean turned his focus on the area around him. Early morning sunlight shone down through a thick shield of trees surrounding the clearing. The air was fresh, crisp, and clear; it was fresher than Dean had ever remembered smelling, even in the remote forests. At first glance it really looked no different than Earth. Dean shook his head at that thought, finding it hard to convince himself it wasn't. Looking up at the cloudless sky, Dean revised that. Suspended there, one partially in front of the other, were two moons.

"Okay," he nodded slowly, returning his gaze to O'Neill and the others, "not in Kansa anymore."

---SPN/SG-1---

Sam smirked at his brother's observation, glad to see he was looking and acting more like himself, color returning to his face since stepping through the gate. Sam had wanted to know all he could about the process but as soon as Carter had mentioned '_demolecularization_' he'd known immediately not to mention any of that to his brother. Dean would be much happier not knowing.

"How far is the settlement?" he asked, hazel eyes searching down the well-traveled path but he couldn't see anything beyond the field of trees.

O'Neill shifted his rifle as he walked off the gate platform. "About half a click from the gate," Jack nodded towards the path, pulling his hat down low over his eyes. "Let's go."

Sam fell in beside his brother as they followed the Colonel to the far edge of the clearing, noting the way the members of SG-1 formed up around them. Teal'c and Captain Carter appeared to be on alert while Daniel and Jack were more relaxed. Dean was eyeing the thick underbrush lining the edges of the path and Sam could easily read the wary set of his shoulders. To say they were out of their element was an understatement and Sam would have really preferred to have a weapon of some form to protect himself, just in case.

Hefting the hard-shelled case higher on his shoulder Sam glanced down at it, hoping they'd be able to contain the demon until it was safely dealt with. They were after all basically giving the creature exactly what it wanted: Native American blood.

"So Daniel, how many languages do you speak?" Dean asked suddenly.

The archeologist's brow furrowed, perhaps taken by surprised with the random question. "Um…I've never really kept a running tally, why?" he returned curiously.

Dean moved his left hand into his coat pocket, the right briefly supporting his elbow as he shrugged. "No reason, just figured it'd be a requirement with this job."

"Actually," it was Carter who spoke up, "most alien races we've come across speak English."

"Seriously?" Sam blurted out in surprise.

"Well, the Gou'ald tend to speak in a variant of Arabic…" Daniel began, when O'Neill glanced back over his shoulder at the rest of them.

"Daniel's here mostly for translation of ancient texts we come across," the Colonel pointed out.

"Oh, thank you," Daniel returned sarcastically.

Jack offered him a smirk. "Did I mention annoying the hell out of me?" the words weren't the least bit biting, though Sam didn't doubt that could change if the two of them were in disagreement.

"I think you mean voice of reason," Dr. Jackson replied, not missing a beat.

Dean cleared his throat in a failed attempt to disguise a laugh. "And none of you find it strangely '_convenient_' that so many planets all speak English?" he asked dubiously.

"Why look a gift horse in the mouth?" Jack shot back immediately.

Sam didn't suppose there was much argument with that kind of logic.

Continuing down the path, Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in warning. He glanced to either side of the trail; sunlight dappled the thick underbrush but the sun was still too low in the sky to really fight the shadows.

"We're being watched," Dean commented softly

Sam nodded in silent agreement. "You catch sight of any of them?" he asked just as softly.

"No," Dean replied, eyes still scanning the tree line, "they're good."

Sam took note of SG-1's collective demeanor, willing at least for the moment to take his cues from them. None of them seemed overly concerned. "What sort of a welcome can we expect?" Sam asked the archeologist, who walked beside him.

"As a team we've been here once," Daniel began, adjusting the bandana he's tied over his head. "I've returned several times to research some old ruins not far from the tribe's encampment--"

"I take it that means friendly?" Dean cut in with a raised brow.

Daniel blinked. "Yes," he finished simply.

"Do they always follow you from the gate?" Sam asked quietly, just managing to catch a rustle in a bush that hadn't been caused by the breeze.

"They're cautious by nature," Daniel said, keeping his attention on Sam rather than the edges of the path. "It might have been centuries since the Gou'ald inhabited this planet but the people still remember. The tale of their slavery is passed down through stories so they'll never forget."

Sam's eyes narrowed in thought. "Why exactly did the Gou'ald take people from Earth to begin with?"

"They believe themselves to be gods and what is a god without worshipers?" the archeologist responded, removing his glasses for a moment to hold them up to the light as he walked. "Ra, ruled over Earth more than five thousand years ago, until the people rose up against him."

"Did they all take on the roles Egyptians gods?" Dean asked amused.

"Not just the roles, the entire cultural heritage," Daniel continued, replacing his glasses on his nose. "And no, they've taken on the 'gods' of just about every culture on Earth. The Gou'ald are in every way parasitical; they'll take whatever people, culture or technology will suit them best."

Dean shrugged his good shoulder. "Whatever works I guess."

The younger Winchester caught Teal'c's brief glare out of the corner of his eye. Sam guessed the Jaffa didn't approve of Dean's glib tone but Sam could understand what his brother meant. Hunters used whatever worked, from whatever culture they found it in to take care of the threat at hand.

"Daniel!" a youthful voice shouted from further down the trail. It was the first true sign that they weren't alone. The archeologist waved a greeting, his lips turning up in a wide smile as a boy came bounding down the path.

The boy wore simple clothes, all of which appeared to be made from the hides of animals. Well-worn boots rose up nearly to his knees, a slight cuff of fur around the top indicating that they were warmly lined. Thick black hair fell across the kid's tanned face and Sam was struck with the surreal feeling that he was seeing one of the Inuit as they had been before their world and ways changed. It was one thing to hear that the culture existed as it once had on Earth; it was completely another to witness it, to feel like you'd stepped back in time.

"Hey, Pakak," O'Neill said his voice far warmer than Sam had expected it to be.

"O'Neill!" the boy replied excitedly. "And you've brought friends!" he exclaimed, skidding to a halt in the center of the trail. Wide brown eyes swept over Sam and Dean; his face split in a huge smile.

"We did," Daniel said, his tone sounding slightly surprised as he turned to the two hunters. "This is Dean and Sam," he indicated each with a pointed finger. "Guys this is Pakak, Tiriaq's youngest son," the archeologist introduced.

"Hey there," Dean greeted with a stupid smile Sam recognized all too well. "We come in peace." Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's lame statement.

Pakak appeared not to even take notice as his eyes landed on the case slung over Sam's shoulder. He darted past Jack and Daniel. "Have you brought more chocolate?!" he asked beaming up at the hunter, his hands immediately going for the latches on the case.

The hunter moved aside quickly, keeping a firm grasp on the case, not about to let the demon escape prematurely. He regarded the boy for a moment guessing his age to be no more than twelve or thirteen years old; he was precocious, to say the very least.

"Sorry Pakak, no chocolate this time," Daniel apologized putting himself between the Winchesters and the boy. "We're here to see your father," he explained.

The boy beamed up at Daniel. "I'll bring you to him," he announced seriously, turning on the heels of his soft soled boots to quickly fall into pace beside the Colonel.

"Best keep a strong hold on that case," the archeologist instructed as they began walking again. "He doesn't mean any harm by it, Pakak is just incredibly curious."

"Pakak," Sam repeated the name thoughtfully, watching the boy as he was walking backwards in front of O'Neill so he could tell him some clearly exciting story. "Does his name mean something?"

Daniel chuckled for a moment. "One that gets into everything, I believe."

"Ha!" Dean barked a laugh that was followed immediately by a wince. "How'd Tiriaq know?" he asked green eyes still following the young boy.

"He said, he just had a sense when Pakak was born," Daniel replied with a smile.

Sam looked away from his brother and the archeologist, focusing his attention instead further down the trail where it looked like they were nearing the mouth. Bright sunlight washed out what lay beyond the field of trees, Sam's hazel eyes struggling to adjust as he was still bathed in shade. Not far to his right, Sam could hear the sound of flowing water but was unable to see the river through the veil of green.

As Sam stepped out into the sunlight he raised a hand to shield his eyes, watching as details of his surroundings immerged. The path from the Stargate let out near a great expanse of water; the strong scent of salt told Sam it was part of an ocean and he briefly wondered what two moons would do for the tides. The river he'd heard through the trees met with the ocean not far to his right. Several men and young boys stood among the small rapids with slender spears in hand; a couple even turned to look as Pakak's excited speech carrying across the open space.

The young boy took them to the left with a wide sweep of his arm and Sam could see the tribe's encampment not far off. There were clustered of tepees all wrapped tightly in animal skins surrounding two larger structures which Sam thought might have been for large gatherings. Men and women stopped what they were doing as the group approached while children ran laughing among their parents, too caught up in their games to notice. Sam was a little surprised by the welcoming looks he received from the tribesmen; there wasn't any of the hostility or distrust born of generations of oppression and lies. He supposed it would be altogether different if they had been Gou'ald.

"How would our regular clothes possibly draw more attention?" Dean asked sarcastically so only Sam would hear.

Sam smirked but didn't respond when he caught site of the tent flap on one of the larger structure sweep aside. The man who stepped out carried the air of respect with him; Sam noticed the subtle change in the people around him and could only assume the man was the tribal Chief. He was not an exceptionally tall man, probably no more than five foot seven, but he possessed a commanding presence. Somehow he even managed not to look up at them as he watched them approached.

"Chief," Pakak greeted respectfully. "SG-1 has returned." He couldn't entirely contain his excitement as he bounced slightly on his toes.

"Chief," Jack said, extending his hand which the man clasped firmly.

"O'Neill," the chief responded in a deep rumbling voice.

Daniel quickly stepped forward. "Chief Tuuluuwaq."

Sam observed Daniel's tone and mannerisms as he greeted the tribal chief; the changes were subtle but Sam thought it must have come as second nature to the archeologist to be deferent to the leaders they came across on their travels. Sam wished that were a talent his brother possessed; it could possibly keep them out of the 'usual' sticky situations.

Looking to his brother then, Sam saw Dean's eyes were traveling quickly over the tribesmen who were creating a loose circle around them, before moving back to the chief. Sam was so accustomed to reading his brother it came as second nature. Despite the ease with which SG-1 greeted the tribe, Sam could tell Dean was still wary of it all. He suspected that had as much to do with Dean being injured and without weapon as it did being completely out of his element on an alien planet.

"Chief Tuuluuwaq," Daniel said again, drawing Sam's attention back to the head of the group. The archeologist was half turned towards them; the focus of his attention however remained on the chief. "We've brought Dean and Sam Winchester to speak with Tiriaq," Daniel introduced, motioning with his hand for both of them to step forward.

The younger Winchester stepped up, lips turning in an easy smile. Aware of the multiple eyes watching them curiously, Sam gripped the latch on the hard shelled case just to be sure it couldn't be opened even by mistake. "It's an honor to meet you," he said after a beat, feeling silly for saying it but unsure what else he could.

"Chief," Dean said, voice rough with the edge of respect as he also extended his hand to Tuuluuwaq.

"You wish to speak with our Shaman?" the Chief asked with a raised brow.

Dean gave a barely perceptible nod. "You're familiar with the Kigatilik?"

"You know of the Mahaha?" Tuuluuwaq asked with a look of surprise.

"Still sounds ridiculous, even when he says it," Jack pointed out quietly to Teal'c.

Sam nodded once but Dean beat him to the answer. "Been up close'n personal more than once," he shifted his left arm unconsciously.

"The People of the Claw are a very powerful weapon," the Chief continued seriously, black eyes looking over each of them.

"Wait," Sam took another step towards the Chief. "You use the Kigatilik as a weapon?" he asked unable to conceal his disbelief.

"The Kigatilik is a powerful spirit to be respected," a new voice spoke up.

Sam watched as the men and women parted to allow a wry man to step forward. A heavy necklace fell across the man's chest, bridging the gap between the tanned vest he wore, embroidered with a multitude of symbols Sam didn't recognize. He noted absently that the man wasn't wearing anything on his feet; dark soles flexing lightly against the smooth soil. "Kigatilik protects this village," he replied solemnly.

Dean pulled his left arm from his coat pocket, cradling his elbow with his right hand. "Isn't that like playing with fire?" he asked bluntly.

"Dean, Sam, this is Tiriaq," Daniel introduced quickly, though Sam had already come to that conclusion, noting the respect the tribesmen had for him, not to mention Tuuluuwaq.

The Shaman looked at both of them carefully, sharp eyes piercing Sam with a knowing glance. "You," he stated pointing a finger from Sam to Dean as he took a step closer. "You are of the Hania," he said, a smile turning up the corner of his lips.

-_Hania?_- Sam wondered sharing a glance with his brother, while a ripple of mutters and surprised whispers broke out around them. Dean gave him a one shouldered shrug, looking back to Tiriaq.

"Hania…Hania," Daniel repeated as though trying to remind himself. "That's Spirit Warrior," he said, eyes bright as he looked at Sam and Dean.

The Winchesters shared another look. "Excuse me?" Sam said, ducking his head a little as he looked the Shaman in the eyes.

"You put the spirits to rest," he said knowingly. "As your father taught you, you fight what can not always be seen."

Sam caught the way Dean stiffened at the mention of their father. "How'd you know that?" he asked voice rough.

Tiriaq looked up at Dean with a genuine smile. "I listen to the Spirits," he replied simply.

"What do they say?" Sam asked quickly. He wasn't sure what to think in that moment. Was it possible that whatever spirits resided on this world could communicate through the void to Earth? Did any distance really exist for them? Or was it just as likely that someone from Stargate Command contacted the tribe before they'd even left? Whatever it was, Sam knew his view of the world was forever changed, leaving him feeling both impossibly big and remarkably small.

The Shaman was silent for a moment, standing a little straighter. "You have traveled a great distance," he began and Sam got the distinct impression he wasn't referring to the distance between planets. "You are exhausted," Tiriaq looked knowingly at Dean, "and wounded."

Sam had to bit hard on his lip to keep from smiling or worse yet laughing as Dean straightened up pointedly but couldn't completely hide his wince.

"You have brought Kigatilik, sealed by the blood of my ancestors," Tiriaq continued.

"You know of blood seals?" Sam asked, somewhat surprised, though he realized he shouldn't have been; it had been Tiriaq's ancestors who originally created it on the artifact.

The Shaman nodded his head.

"Good," Dean said taking a half a step forward. "Shouldn't be a problem destroying the thing once the seal's gone," the last was said more to Sam than anyone else.

"No."

All eyes were on Tiriaq once again. He stood perfectly still, shoulders drawn back slightly as he regarded them with a stern expression. "The Mahaha will not be destroyed." The words were firm, purposeful, leaving no room for argument; even Jack seemed too stunned by the Shaman's sudden change in demeanor to smile at the demon's unfortunate name.

No surprise to Sam, it was Dean who spoke first. "No offense," he began, "but even if these demons are used as tools to protect your tribe, this one's too far gone. It's rabid. Its killing just for the sake of it and you're all on the menu."

Sam pulled a hand through his hair, wishing—not for the first time—that Dean possessed an ounce more tact. Tiriaq didn't seem the least bit put off by Dean's outburst. He calmly leaned towards one of the tribesmen, speaking softly into his ear before looking back to Dean. The man moved off with a respectful nod.

"The fault does not lie with the Kigatilik," he explained in patient tones, "but with the men who misused the power."

"Then what'd you plan on doing?" Sam asked quickly, before Dean could speak again.

"I will put the spirit to rest," Tiriaq replied simply.

Dean gave his head a slight shake. "It's a demon," he stated flatly as though that should have said it all.

The Shaman looked at Dean with a raised brow. "Yes," he said, tone more than implying he saw no problem with this. Tiriaq turned then, casting a glance back over his shoulder. "Follow me."

Sam glanced at his brother. "Demon's a demon," Dean muttered, "better off dead."

"Let's hope his ways easier," Sam returned just as softly.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	15. Chapter 13c

**The Same Coin**

**AN**: Many thanks, to all of you who stuck out this long delay. Your comments, favorites and other notifications kept me thinking about this story. I don't honestly know what happened to me, but writing is no longer something I can do without thought, it sort of feels like that part of my brain is closed. But the encouragement I received from knowing people were still reading, enjoying and hoping for the ending, kept me coming back to this final chapter.

I hope you enjoy!

This chapter is dedicated to **pywacket3ps**, had it not been for your nudging this story might never have been finished! Your last message to me got me to refocus my attention to this final chapter and I actually found that writing became a little more like it used to be. Thank you so much!

Thanks to Shuffles for the beta!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural or Stargate SG-1

**Chapter 13c**

Dean stood for a minute watching Tiriaq lead the way further inland away from the last cluster of tepees; the Chief walked at his right, Daniel on his left. If Sam had any concerns for Tiriaq's plan of putting the demon to rest rather than sending it back to hell the way they'd been trained; it didn't show. Dean wondered briefly if the Shaman's methods would ultimately amount to the same thing in the end; somehow he doubted it.

Having grown up far more intimately with the nightmare that had sent John Winchester on his crusade, Dean was reluctant—unlike Sam—to see these things in shades of grey. If it preyed on humans, it needed to be put down. He needed it to be that simple, nothing else in the world was; second guessing cost lives.

"We going to have a problem?" O'Neill asked as he came up beside Dean. The expression on his face indicated he thought it was more likely the '_problem_' would be coming from Dean rather than the demon.

Dean kept his eyes on Sam who was now deep in conversation with Daniel and Tiriaq. Despite Sam's clear enthusiasm at this once in a lifetime opportunity, the younger Winchester was still maintaining a firm grip on the lid of the case; not allowing himself to lose sight of the danger.

Dean considered Jack's question, casting a sidelong glance in the colonel's direction. Not being the one in control of this '_cleansing_' Dean couldn't really list all the possible ways it could go wrong. Finally he decided on an answer. "I believe Tiriaq wouldn't knowingly risk the lives of his people," he said and honestly meant it.

"Oh good!" the colonel drawled, "There _clearly_wasn't a 'but' coming in that sentence."

Ignoring Jack's blatant sarcasm, Dean merely mouthed the word before finishing. "Hunting's black and white, if it kills and they all do." For an instant Dean's mind snapped back to Red Lodge, Montana, and Gordon Walker; but he shoved it aside. One anomaly—as much as it got Sam thinking, questioning and generally angsting more than normal, which was saying something—couldn't change the rhetoric that had been the harsh and bloody truth of Dean's life since the age of four. Shrugging the thought aside he all but spat the rest. "If it hunts humans, you put it down!"

"Are there not exceptions to most rules Dean Winchester?" Teal'c asked, obviously listening to the conversation though his eyes never strayed from their continuing sweep of the camp and surrounding plains.

"Hunt long enough and you see just how little good is actually out there," Dean growled tiredly; sliding his right hand across his chest to support his elbow, easing a little of the pain knotted in the shoulder. For a moment Dean took in his surroundings; what had been thick forest around the gate had given way to the ocean, while further out the land was windswept plains, great boulders breaking the otherwise smooth ground.

Dean became increasingly aware of Colonel O'Neill's eyes boring into him. A brief glance through the corner of his eye told Dean Jack was pointedly waiting for something.

"What?" the word slipped from his mouth without his permission.

"Will. There. Be. A. Problem?" Jack asked again.

"You want some sort of promise?" Dean asked incredulously; the barest of nods from Jack was his answer and an obvious indication that O'Neill was spending far too much time around Teal'c. "Not like we have a choice with the blood seal protecting the box."

Jack nodded; on the outside at least accepting that answer. Though the colonel continued to regard Dean pointedly; that O'Neill could do this without actually looking at him reminded Dean sharply of his father. He huffed a quick cough to loosen the lump that tried to choke him whenever he thought of John and looked back to his brother. He was surprised to find Sam looking back at him expression concerned.

Dean rolled his eyes when his brother excused himself from the conversation and slowed his pace until he fell in beside the older Winchester. "Why's Jack giving you the evil eye?" he asked, ducking his head slightly so he could speak without being overheard.

Dean shrugged his good shoulder. "No idea," he deflected, "you been taking notes?" he nodded to the group not far ahead of them. They were walking a well worn path, marked on occasion by a purposefully placed mound of stones. They reminded Dean of graves.

"It's amazing!" Sam said with a wide smile. "In nearly a thousand years their culture and life style hasn't changed."

"What was your first clue genius?" he scoffed, making an exaggerated visual sweep of their surroundings.

"Ha-ha," it dripped with sarcasm.

"Still," Dean continued more seriously, "with that much time you'd think they'd be a little more advanced."

"You're looking at it wrong Dean," Sam began in his lecturing voice. "We're looking at a people that minus outside influences is happy to remain as is. It works for them."

Dean nodded in agreement, wondering just how many cultures on Earth would have happily remained as they were, had industrialization not been forced upon them. "Do you know where Tiriaq is taking us?" he asked, redirecting the conversation.

"To the sacred land of his ancestors," Sam answered. "How're you holding up?"

The older Winchester flexed his left hand and stretched his neck away from that shoulder; neither did anything to lessen the pain throbbing on that side of his body. "I'll be fine Sam," he assured, very much looking forward to when this hunt was finally done; he could use a stiff drink and a full nights sleep.

Ahead Dean noticed a plume of smoke rising from a dip in the land, large boulders almost completely surrounding it and obscuring what lay beyond. Tiriaq stood to the side of a gap in the stone, that the Chief, Daniel and Carter had just walked through. The Shaman's gaze locked onto Dean, a slight smile turning the corners of his lips. "Come, Dean Winchester," he intoned formally.

-SPN/SG-1-

Silvery smoke pungent with the sharp scent of burning herbs filled the ancient looking structure Tiriaq led them into. The earth floor was well packed and worn almost completely smooth from years of ceremonies and sacred rituals. At the very center a ring of small stones enclosed the glowing embers of a meticulously tended fire. A young man who looked remarkably like his father Tiriaq, knelt next to the coals sprinkling a mixture of dried herbs over the heat.

The chief sat directly across from the door, which was little more than an opening in the rock covered by an animal skin. Tiriaq took his place at the head of the structure to the left of the door and motioned for Dean to sit directly across the fire from him. Sam was forced to duck low in order to avoid disturbing the dream catchers which hung from the roughhewn ceiling along with other sacred items he didn't readily have a name for.

Taking his place on Dean's left side, Sam watched his brother closely. Though Dean's pride would have him deny it, it wasn't hard for the younger Winchester to see just how much pain his brother was in. Sam's own excitement to witness this cleansing ritual firsthand was quickly tempered by his wish to see Dean resting.

Sam's hand rested heavily on the hard shelled case containing the Kigatilik as he slipped the strap from his shoulder placing it in front of his folded legs. Tiriaq spoke to his son in soft tones, accepting from his hands an earthen bowl and flint knife, before turning his attention back to Dean.

The Shaman drew a slow breath before beginning to chant in a deep musical way.

"Awonawilona. Creator of All," Daniel quietly translated as Tiriaq continued to sing shaking an old rattle over the smoking embers. "I call to you. Lend me strength. Gray One. Spirit of the Mountain. I call to you. Lend me your power. Enter this place and heal its wounded heart. Mend its soul. Call to your brother. I trust him to you."

Placing the rattle reverently before the fire Tiriaq tossed a handful of herbs over the fire causing it to spark briefly to life. "Breathe deeply of this sacred flame," he intoned in English, eyes locked onto Dean.

Dean's wince was almost perfectly concealed as he did as the Shaman asked.

Tiriaq took up the flint knife and flipped back his sleeve, without a moment's hesitation the Shaman took the razor edge to the outside of his forearm drawing a thin line of blood which he allowed to collect within the bowl.

After several silent moments Tiriaq placed the bowl within Dean's reach and handed him the knife. This part of the ritual required no translation for the hunters. Dean accepted the blade pushing back his own sleeve to expose his left arm. With a deft movement Dean sliced his own skin allowing his blood to mix with that of Tiriaq's.

"Here," it was Carter who handed Sam a field dressing that the younger Winchester quickly applied to his brother's arm as the Shaman took back the bowl swirling the blood over the embers.

"Sam," Tiriaq spoke solemnly, "Give to me the Mahaha."

Sam knew this moment was coming, had felt more secure in allowing the Shaman access to the box than his brother had. Now in the moment he couldn't help a feeling of hesitation.

"Please Sam," the Shaman said, reaching out his hand. "Trust in the power of my ancestors."

The hunter nodded. "Right," Snapping open the case Sam reached into the salt for the small box.

He passed the artifact across to the Shaman who took it, placing it almost reverently into the bowl of blood. And just like that a gust of wind formed out of thin air, blasting through the stone structure causing the small flames of the dying fire to dance to life once again.

Silence reined for a moment. "Wait...that's it?" Jack asked sounding thoroughly unimpressed.

"That was just the blood seal," Dean growled, eyes never ceasing their wary observation of the small artifact.

"Indeed O'Neill," Tiriaq responded before he placed the bloodied box into the embers of the fire. With another slow intake of breath the Shaman began to chant once again.

"I call on you Kigatilik, Son of the People of the Claw." Daniel once again translated, "I call on you to come Tornat Mahaha. I call you to me to return to your place of peace. Your duty is complete. Hear my power."

Tiriaq cast another handful of herbs into the embers and this time the fire roared to life, the shadow of the demon standing in stark relief against the flames. Dean lunged back arms coming up to defend his face against the heat. Sam reached out quickly to keep his brother from toppling back and further injuring his already sore ribs. In his peripherals Sam saw Jack and Samantha raise their guns while Teal'c readied his staff, SG-1 quickly switching to high alert; though their weapons would do nothing if the demon managed to break free.

The Kigatilik roared once, a sound that might have been one of defiance before the flames vanished as quickly as they'd appeared, leaving silence in their wake.

"Now it's done?" the Colonel asked, his voice sounding hopeful, though he still had his weapon at the ready. "That certainly looked more done…ish…" he trailed off in face of the continued silence.

"Yes O'Neill," Tiriaq nodded, releasing a sigh as though exhausted, "it is done."

-SPN/SG-1-

The klaxon greeted Dean as he stepped through the Stargate back to Earth; that thought already felt a little less odd. His right boot struck the metal grating of the ramp without missing a beat as he followed Jack and Carter down. Sam hovered close by refusing to believe when Dean said he was fine; sore, definitely but not about to keel over at any minute.

"Welcome back SG-1," Hammond greeted from the control room, "Debrief at 22:00 hours."

Dean glanced down at his watch with surprise, having to remind himself of the difference in time from when they left to the early morning they'd arrived at off-world.

O'Neill offered the General a loose two fingers salute before turning to face the Winchesters. "Carter, take the boys to the infirmary for their post mission check," he ordered before disappearing down the hall towards the control room.

Dean didn't try to suppress a sigh. "Seriously?" he blurted out only to receive a pointed nudge from his brother.

"It's standard procedure," the Captain informed, motioning for them to follow.

"It won't kill you to let the doctor take a look at you," Sam spoke into Dean's ear in a decidedly bossy tone.

"Will you quit worrying once she does?" he shot back.

Sam's brow knitted together in a look of concern; that coupled with his silence said everything.

The older Winchester shook his head, silently grinding his teeth when that pulled at his already aching stitches. Not that he was ever going to admit this to Sam but he could really use a break. Maybe now that this hunt was done he could find a little rest, though that presented a new host of problems.

"So what do you think'll happen now?" Dean asked his brother quietly, eyeing the Captain's back with a budding sense of distrust.

Sam followed his brother's eyes. "We did sign the nondisclosure agreements…" he began, sounding unsure.

Dean bit down on the urge to laugh. "You really think they'll trust that that's enough?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself Dean," Sam said tersely, "We did just save them."

"And people with less authority have been so 'grateful' and 'understanding' in the past," he replied dryly.

Sam scowled but didn't have a chance to respond as they reached the elevator that would take them up to the infirmary.

-SPN/SG-1-

O'Neill jogged up the steps to the briefing room, making a beeline for the General's office. "Colonel, you're early," Hammond greeted, though he didn't sound surprised. "I take it the mission was a success."

"General," Jack nodded before jumping right to the point. "Is everything in place?"

Hammond turned his chair to face Jack more fully and nodded his head. "I had Walter see to it personally. Take them to the northeast corner and make sure they understand we'll be watching in case they feel the need to start spreading rumors."

"Consider it done," he said with a pleased curve to his lips. The General waved him off and Jack quickly turned on his heels striding to the elevator.

Colonel O'Neill found the Winchesters exactly where he'd sent them, in the infirmary. Dean was still seated on one of the beds allowing Doctor Fraser to check on the fresh cut on his forearm, while his giant of a brother stood sentry behind him. "How is he Doc?"

"He's fine," Dean answered with a sigh.

"He'll be sore for a couple of weeks," Janet said with a sympathetic smile as she finished binding the new bandage onto Dean's forearm.

Jack was truly glad to hear it, though he doubted it showed. "If you're done with them, they need to be debriefed."

The Winchesters exchanged a subtle look at that. Clearly they'd been wondering too what was going to happen with them now that the demon had been taken care of.

"They're all yours," the doctor said while pulling off her gloves.

"Alright kids, follow me," Jack smirked at the disconcerted look Dean tried to conceal as he hopped down from the bed.

Once in the hall Dean stepped right up to O'Neill. "What happens now?" he all but demanded.

"Now, you follow me," he returned firmly, watching as the younger man straightened perceptibly in response to the order in Jack's tone. Inside the elevator Jack selected the first floor and turned to face the brothers who were watching him with matching wary expressions.

"General Hammond expresses his thanks for your help with the demon." The Colonel began, eyeing the hunters and remembering that only days before he'd been ready to commit the pair of them to some far off corner of the world or high security mental facility. "That said, what you've seen here is top secret."

Dean drew a breath at that, clearly preparing for the worst.

"We take nondisclosure agreements seriously," he continued. "But if that isn't enough to keep you from talking about what you saw here, remember this. We know all about your criminal records and have access to alien tech that'd make tracking you down for the 'proper' authorities easier than getting more of that salt you seem to like so much." Jack fought to keep his face neutral, if not a little stern; a lie the boys couldn't prove wouldn't hurt anyone in a situation like this.

"You're letting us go?" it was Sam who asked it, surprised but obviously pleased.

Jack did smirk then. "Honestly I'm happier knowing you're out there taking care of this shit."

"Back atcha," Dean grinned.

Thanks for reading!

Yacoba

**Surprise Bonus! **

**Author's Note**: _Little did I know when I'd started writing this story just how much I was tying my hands by having Samantha a Captain. I'd only just started watching SG-1 when this idea smacked me in the face, and had no idea that she would be promoted to Major so quickly. I can't count the number of times I found myself written into the preverbal corner when I'd remember a mission from SG-1 that would help move things along…unfortunately all those missions happened with Major Carter._

_I did briefly consider going back and changing her rank to give myself extra material on the Stargate side. However that felt a little like cheating, not to mention the fact that it could throw off the entire feel of the story. _

_Still there was one scene that suddenly hit me and wouldn't leave me alone, not even after more than a year. So, to thank all of you, for your epic patience with me, occasional poking/reminders of your interest and especially your kind words! I'm including this scene here._

_Thank you all so much! I hope you enjoy!_

_Yacoba_

**Aren't You Tempted?**

Daniel stepped off the elevator and wandered the halls of the SGC, blue eyes mostly focused on the notebook held open in his hands as he used his peripheral vision to avoid the nightshift staff he came upon. He'd lost track of time during his research, which was by no means an uncommon occurrence in his line of work. But it had been happening with more frequency since meeting the Winchesters.

Despite the overwhelming amounts of data which poured in from the various SG teams, Daniel felt drawn to Earth where his eyes had been opened to the possibility that so much of what he considered to be myth and legend, was in fact truth. Pouring over the Winchesters' journal had been a surreal experience and had he not seen a demon with his own eyes, Daniel knew he'd have brushed it all aside as the ravings of a madman.

Looking up from his reading, Daniel was surprised to find he'd stopped in front of the Officer's mess. Fighting back a yawn, he couldn't agree more with his subconscious; a cup of coffee was definitely in order. Pushing aside one of the swinging doors the archeologist walked in only to see Dean Winchester seated at one of the far tables.

If the hunter had noticed he was no longer alone, he gave no sign of it; his attention seeming completely focused on the file spread out in front of him. Daniel watched the man unobtrusively as he poured his cup of coffee. There was something about the set of Dean's shoulders as he leaned against the table that had Daniel walking over before he'd actually made a conscious decision to do so.

"You're up late," he said by way of greeting, as he slipped into the chair opposite the hunter.

Dean smirked. "Hunting doesn't exactly keep regular hours."

The archeologist nodded in understanding. "People can be awfully judgmental about burning bones," he said dryly.

"But they also don't like being killed by ghosts," Dean added with a shake of his head.

"You just can't win," Daniel agreed.

Silence stretched between them for a beat. "What's your excuse?" the hunter asked leaning back in his chair.

Daniel dropped his notebook on the table. "Research. You and your brother have given me a lot to think about."

Dean chuckled dryly. "We live to educate." The hunter sat forward then, gathering the loose papers in front of him as if just remembering they were there.

"P3R-233?" Daniel read aloud curiously. "Where'd you get that?"

"Stumbled across it," Dean deflected, clearing his throat. "Says here you went through it," he continued after a second, "what was it like? If you ask me one reality is more than enough."

There was something in Dean's voice that Daniel couldn't quite put his finger on, but he didn't think the hunter was as disinterested as he appeared. The Quantum Mirror, Daniel considered for a second before responding. "It's surreal," he said simply.

Dean's eyes were heavy on Daniel as the archeologist sipped at his coffee. He knew there was something more Winchester wanted to ask and decided to wait him out.

Glancing away Dean cleared his throat. "Have you ever been tempted?"

"To use the mirror?" Daniel clarified.

"Yeah," the hunter nodded, eyes meeting the archeologist's. "Find your wife?"

Daniel swallowed down the lump that instantly formed in his throat and considered the question; remembering how he had looked into the faces of his closest friends and saw nothing but strangers deep in their eyes. Daniel drew a slow breath not liking what he was about to say. "She wouldn't really be my Sha're." Still he wasn't positive that would really stop him, but the point itself was moot with the Mirror under lock and key.

Dean nodded slowly, looking anywhere but at Daniel. "Can't decide which is worse," he began voice rough. "That they're out there alive and out of reach, or that there's an infinite number of worse lives they're living."

Daniel wanted to offer the hunter something that wouldn't simply be empty platitudes. But what was there to say to that? '_I'm sure they aren't all bad_'? That would imply this reality was and only succeed in driving home the distance Dean felt between himself and the family he'd lost.


End file.
